Chaos Theory
by The Zoologist
Summary: Has Ian Malcolm finally met his match? Has Brooke DiAngelo bitten a little more than she can chew? / AU after 1st Movie/with info from the book as well.
1. The Zoologist

**Chapter One**

* * *

_May 1994_

"Shit, fuck, damn, shit, shit, SHIT!" Brooke had sprung from her bed, only to be entangled by the clothing strewn across the floor. She fell down, breaking her fall with her forearm. As quickly as she had fallen, she sprung to her feet. A distressed bark was nearly drowned out by the repetitive ringing of an alarm clock in the next room. She threw the door open and ran to the alarm clock.

How had she slept through it for fifteen minutes? She smacked the on/off switch, and the sound of the alarm was replaced by a commercial playing on Brooke's favorite radio station. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she was able to see the time.

**6:30AM.**Fifteen minutes behind, but she was able to breathe easy.

_I have to remember I moved, _she thought to herself with a slight shake of her head. _I'm only 10 minutes away from the school._

She turned the radio up and moved quickly toward the bathroom. Proximity change or not, she had a few extra things to add to her routine this morning before she would feel "ready" for the day.

Why, out of all of the professors in the University, did she have to be picked to give the introductory speech for the latest guest? He was some sort of Mathematician and she was a Zoologist. Two completely different fields. Not to mention, Brooke _hated_ any sort of math with a fiery passion. As intelligent as she was, numbers just didn't compute.

Her speech, however, didn't have anything to do with Math. She was instructed to discuss the pros and cons of keeping large wild animals in human care—specifically large predators—and the recreation of certain ecosystems in confined areas. She had prompted the head of her department for more information—about the lecture, about the guest, and what her part in the whole thing was—to no avail. She had been left in the dark.

Despite her reservations, she couldn't help but be excited to be speaking in front of such a large crowd. She would be standing at a podium on stage in the middle of the University's stadium. They had sold tickets for $5 to students, and $8 for locals citizens, and the lecture was sold out. She would be standing in front of nearly 2,000 people, as well as being broadcasted on the local public station to an estimated 1,000 others. Her heart raced with excitement. Though she didn't really understand why she was speaking, she was extremely eager to share her greatest passion with the masses. The more puzzling part of equation was that Brooke wasn't the only person in the dark. 2,000 people had paid money for a "surprise lecture" that was "sure to blow their minds". There were dinosaurs on the fliers.

x-x-x

"What if the speaker is anti-Darwin?" one of her favorite students, Natalie, had asked when the 'surprise lecture' had first been announced. When Brooke questioned her logic, the sophomore continued to explain: "Well, you've heard about the controversy with cloning, and everyone and their brother wants to bring back the dinosaurs. Creationists seem to think that somehow, humans and dinosaurs walked the Earth together. According to some, since the world is 'only 6,000 years old', it won't be such a difficult task—even though it would be playing God, which is bad. What if it's some anti-evolutionist, or someone who thinks Global Warming doesn't exist?"

"What does that have to do with talking about large predators in captivity?" Brooke challenged. She moved from standing in front of the class to sitting on the front of her desk. Because she was quite young for a professor, she preferred to be rather informal with her students.

Natalie shrugged. "It was just a thought. The school seems to be all about controversy. And they promised the lecture would "blow our minds". Maybe they're just trying to stir up some drama."

"Sounds like you better have your shit together, Miss. D.," another one of her students, Jerome, added.

"I've got it all together," Brooke chuckled. "And if it is some brain-wash-attempting Creationist, I will squash him like a bug."

"Don't you believe in God?"

Brooke had been shocked by the voice, as it was one she rarely heard. She turned her attention to the back of the classroom. A small, mousy-looking redhead furrowed her brow.

"Of course I believe in God, Lydia," she told her student. "But I don't believe we're puppets on strings. I think the Big Guy started it all 4 billion years ago, but then kind of just sat back and let everything take it's course."

"And Jesus?" A tall Jewish boy from the front row asked.

"I was raised to believe Jesus is the Son of God and our Savior," she replied truthfully. "A little push to remind us all to be good and strong and kind people." She paused, bit her lip, and then shook her head. "We've derailed, and I'm not opening _that_ can of worms."

So she hopped off the desk and walked over to the chalkboard. While her students chattered behind her, she sketched a few barely recognizable Brontosaurs, Stegosaurs, and a huge T-Rex on one side of the board. She then drew a lake and some trees, adding some smaller dinos. Then, in the sky, she drew a huge round ball and engulfed it in chalk-line flames. She turned back to her students.

"Back on track," she said, getting her students to focus. "Let's talk about extinction through the ages."

Natalie raised her hand. "Do we have to watch your speech, or is it extra credit?"

"It's mandatory for all of my students to watch my speech," Brooke replied, "And write a four page minimum response using outside information as well as information directly from the lecture." There was a resounding, unified groan. "I'm sorry guys, it's Dr. Kaplan's ruling. I do the speech, my Zoology classes get the work. I work extra, you guys work extra."

"Then why the heck did you agree to do it?" Jerome asked.

"What can I say, I like to talk," Brooke replied with a shrug. "And don't worry, I'll make the extra work worthwhile."

"Extra trips to the nature reserve?"

"Maybe, maybe…" Brooke's tone was non-committal, but she couldn't prevent the smirk from turning up the corner of her mouth as she raised her hands and asked her class to focus. "Extinction," she repeated. "Why these animals are gone, and why they can never come back…"

x-x-x

Brooke smiled to herself as she brushed her straight, strawberry blonde hair into submission. She had a rotten case of bedhead, and had to work slowly with the brush to ensure she wasn't ripping her locks out of her scalp. She was the professor of two Zoology classes at Stony Brook University in New York. Despite the University's huge student population, since she was such a young professor (merely 25 years-old), she only had two small lectures. In all, she was in charge of 113 students, and she held strong relationships with about 90 of them. She loved her small sections, and relished in the intimate lectures. The students were more inclined to join in, speak their minds, and argue. As Brooke had said herself: she liked to talk, and her students liked to talk. She didn't think of being a professor as "work". She absolutely loved her job, and (except around midterms and finals), felt like she didn't work a day in her life.

When her hair and teeth were brushed, she stripped from her pajamas and changed into a pair of blue jean shorts and a bright yellow button up blouse. Around her neck, she tied a bright green kerchief to set off her eyes. The blouse was long sleeved, cuffed at the wrists, and made of light material, suited well for the mid-May warmth. Pressed against her skin, it was see-through, and her white bra was visible. But as long as there were no strong gusts of wind, it was completely appropriate.

"Dr. Kaplan is not going to like this," she murmured. But it was the nicest set of clothing she owned. Brooke didn't do dresses, and she certainly wasn't the "girly" type. She owned three dresses. A black, high-collared number that had sleeves and reached down to her knees was paired with a black cardigan and ballet flats, an outfit reserved especially for funerals. The other two were pale-colored sundresses she wore to Church.

As for makeup, she didn't really believe in it. She didn't own any. She preferred the au natural look. But, since she was going to be airing on television, there would be a team ready and waiting at the University to "make her up". She shuddered at the thought. Her only additions were deodorant and a few sprays of her favorite body mist.  
To complete her "rugged zoologist" look, she slipped her feet into a pair of hiking boots and laced up. She grabbed her wallet and keys at the front door and let out a low whistle. There was a _thump_ in the bedroom, and a few seconds later her Golden Retriever, Felicity, trotted out tail wagging. In her mouth she held the leash she picked up from the lowest handle of the wardrobe.

"Let's go, girly girl," Brooke said with a small smile. She clipped the leash to the collar, and the two walked out the front door.

Luckily, New York was good to its educators. So good, in fact, she was able to afford a small ranch-style house near the school and a very lightly used red 1990 Jeep Wrangler. The house was basically sat on the train tracks, but it was a beautiful house with a nice yard. The car was supposed to be used in off-road tours, but never made it. She had gotten great deals on both. The real reason Brooke had taken the opportunity to speak at this lecture was because the money was so good. She had spent so much on her house and car, she was down to scraps—just enough to feed and clothe her. The lecture would help her out a little until her next paycheck. If they were to broadcast the lecture anywhere besides the Public Access channel, or if they recorded it and used it in classes, she would receive royalties.

She hadn't told her students yet, but the trade-off for their papers was no final exam. Because the lecture was helping her out, she wanted to help her students out. She thought it would be a wonderful end-of-term surprise.

Brooke turned on the radio, and it brought an instant smile to her lips. Aerosmith had been on the rise the past few years, ever since their compilation with Run DMC in '87, and since then had produced some pretty kickass tunes and their first really big album since earlier that year. "I was _cryin' _since I met you, now I'm _dyin' _to forget you…!" she sang loudly as she pulled away from her driveway.

At 6:45AM, she was pretty much alone on the back roads, so she made it to school in record time. Before the clock struck 6:55, she and Felicity walked through the door to Brooke's office. Brooke put up the baby gate to prevent her dog from wandering about the halls, and then sat down at her desk. She pulled her speech from the top drawer and began rehearsing in a whisper.

Within minutes, the halls were all hustle-and-bustle. Brooke's attention was constantly being pulled from her speech, and she glared at those who passed by. She was confident in her words, so she didn't fret too much. When she felt herself getting anxious, she looked down at Felicity. The dog curled up around her chair, a golden mound at Brooke's feet. Just as the small bout of nerves began to subside, a shrill voice broke the peace.

"There you are!"

Brooke whirled around her chair, startling her dog. She stood up as her boss stepped over the gate. Dr. Kaplan immediately grabbed Brooke's upper arm and pulled her out the door. "Stay!" Brooke called to her dog over her shoulder.

"What are you wearing?" Dr. Kaplan asked. "Is that how you want to represent our Department?"

"I figured that wearing a skirt and pumps would misrepresent our department," Brooke replied coolly.

"I would believe that, but I know for a fact you don't own either of those articles."

Brooke was brought to hair-and-makeup in the locker room at the stadium. Pretty much against her will, her hair was re-brushed and blown out, and parted to the side. Her bangs were fluffed, and that was all she allowed. The team applied light brown eyeliner and mascara, and just the tiniest bit of blush. They wanted to use red lipstick, but Brooke made them compromise to a dark pink gloss that wasn't nearly as garish.

"I wish we could do something about those freckles," one of the makeup artists commented.

"I like my freckles," Brooke defended, knitting her brow. The artist rolled her eyes and then announced that she "had done all she could". Brooke felt as if she had offended the woman by being so restrictive, but she wasn't apologetic. She wasn't a doll, and wouldn't allow herself to be painted up and presented as one.

"Are you excited?" Dr. Kaplan asked as Brooke moved away from the makeup station. "Are you prepared?"

"Yes and yes," Brooke replied, showing her boss her index cards. The older woman read through them, and nodded approvingly. "You're missing the end," was the only comment.

"Considering I don't actually know who I'm introducing…" Brooke replied. "I left that part out."

"That would be Doctor Ian Malcolm."

Brooke turned around to meet the owner of the voice behind her. Her eyes fell upon a tall, well-built figure dressed completely in black. He wore black dress pants and black shoes, a black button-up shirt, and a long, black coat. His stride was long, but there was an obvious limp. His complexion was a crisp tan, suiting his black curly hair and dark brown eyes. His lips were turned up in a cocky half-smirk. He must have been at least 6'3, maybe taller. His chest was broad his waist slightly smaller, giving his body an attractive 'V' shape. He easily dwarfed Brooke's 5'6, curvaceous frame.

Brooke extended her hand, but raised a suspicious eyebrow. He met her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His hands were enormous. "Nice to meet you," she said quietly.

"Delighted, Miss. DiAngelo."

"How do you know _my_ name?" she asked as she withdrew her hand.

Dr. Malcolm chuckled. It was low and light, and sort of a growl. Brooke took it as offensive and condescending. "I make it, well I make it my business to make sure I know whom I'm being introduced by. A bad introduction could—could lead to a bad first impression, and you know how important those are." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Brooke rolled her eyes. She turned away from Dr. Malcolm and took her cards back from her boss. She quickly scribbled his name into her conclusion.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Malcolm," Brooke said flatly, "I'll see you on stage."

As she walked out of the locker room and toward the stadium, she heard behind her: "You can call me Ian."

_Much, much worse than a Creationist, _she thought to herself. _ A rockstar._


	2. The Theory of the Madman

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Brooke sighed as she leaned against the side of the tunnel. She gazed out at the small stadium, watching as the crowd slowly filed in. The seminar was set to begin at 9:30, and after a quick glance at her watch, she discovered she only had about ten minutes until she was to be ushered on stage, and then just a little under five minutes to be introduced to present her lecture. As she watched the stadium fill, butterflies took flight in her stomach. She smiled as she saw her parents and brothers entered front-row, and then her students filled the first five rows on the side.

As she sipped her coffee, she went over her speech in her head. Her notecards were in her front pocket, but she would have preferred to know every word than to make foolish mistakes or stumble over sentences. There were many who commended her age, and many more who scrutinized it. She wanted to represent her department well, but also prove that she was competent in "the big leagues". She couldn't help but feel nervous. She had not only the money to think about, but also her reputation.

She had attempted to be so blasé about it—to her parents, her students, her boss, and even herself. She had spent hours on her presentation, writing until her fingers hurt and then rehearsing until her throat was sore. Despite her nerves, she was confident. Although it certainly helped to have the validation of others, she knew that her speech was well-written and done so in a way that would portray her intellect. It would impress the crowd. Hopefully, Dr. Malcolm wouldn't completely overshadow her.

Dr. Ian Malcolm. Why did that name sound so familiar? _I know if from somewhere, _Brooke thought to herself. _I've heard it before_.

As aforementioned, she was quite inept when it came to math. Therefore, she avoided it like the plague. She skipped over any and all math sections in educational journals and monthly magazines. She did her best to avoid not only math, but also anyone who made it a point to practice or talk about math often. Namely, mathematicians. The only one she freely associated with had been a close friend of hers since elementary school. But Ian Malcolm. Where did she know that name from, then? She must have heard his name somewhere. As she thought, she chewed on her lip. She closed her eyes, trying to search the files of her mind for the name.

Instead of finding names, it found a poster. The words: "blow your mind" stuck out. And the dinosaurs.

_Dinosaurs._ Suddenly, she knew.

"Nervous, Brooke?"

Brooke looked over her shoulder. "Miss. or Professor DiAngelo, please."

Dr. Malcolm chuckle-growled again and nodded his head. "A woman who knows what she wants," he practically purred. "Wonderful. Well, ah, I wanted to give you this." He held out a notecard. Brooke took it, reading the words quickly. She smiled and nodded. It was the introduction she was to read before giving her own lecture.

"Thank you, Dr. Malcolm," she told him. "I was going to wing it, not really clue them in on what was ahead." She paused. "Because I have no idea what is ahead."

"Please, call me Ian," was his only response.

Brooke rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'd rather not," she said. Their eyes met, his behind dark rimmed glasses. The brown had a certain mischievous sparkle, and when paired with his smirk, Ian wore an expression just enough to make her heart skip a beat. She knit her brow and turned away.

"Just what should I be, ah, expecting from you, Professor?" he asked her.

"I was given a prompt for a lecture by my director, Dr. Kaplan, whom I assume you have spoken with. She told me to follow a certain rubric, and I did to the letter. I will be speaking about the pros and cons about keeping large and endangered predators in human care, as well as the implications that come with attempting to recreate and contain foreign ecosystems."

"Are… reptiles and birds included in this speech?"

"Of course, I mention snakes and crocodiles, as well as Komodos and Monitors," Brooke replied. "But only briefly. It is far easier to keep these animals today than some of the big cats, bears, and primates. I didn't really mention birds, though it's been proven parrots undergo exorbitant amounts of stress in human care."

"Is—is that so?"

"You'll just have to wait and see."

Before Dr. Malcolm could say another word, the President of the University stepped in front of the podium on stage. He introduced himself, and thanked those who had come out to watch today's lecture, as well as those who were tuning in at home or in the dorms. "Today we are joined by two prestigious, progress-seeking individuals. Stony Brook University's own Professor Brooke DiAngelo will make her opening statements and introduce today's keynote speaker Dr. Ian Malcolm. I'd like to ask you please rise, and welcome Dr. Teri Kaplan, director of Zoology, accompanying Professor Brooke DiAngelo, and Dr. Robert Kaden, Director of Mathematics, accompanying Dr. Ian Malcolm of the Santa Fe Institute."

As he moved to step forward, he limped badly and cursed. When he caught Brooke's quizzical glance he said rather shortly: "I'm going to need your help up the stairs on the stage. My leg is acting up and I don't have my cane." Brooke agreed without question. The sparkle in his eye was gone, his brown eyes were intense, and he bared his teeth in pain. Brooke offered her arm to him and he accepted, a smile returning to his lips.

As they took their first steps out onto the field, Brooke took in the full scene. The stage stood with its center at the 50-yard line. Behind it, two large projectors had been set up. The cameras in front of the stage were pointed at Brooke and Dr. Malcolm as they walked onto the field and their images projected onto the screens. Dr. Malcolm smiled, and he raised his eyebrows slightly. He waved with his free hand, and even winked at the camera.

_ He's such a rockstar,_ Brooke thought to herself as she flashed a smile at the camera and waved at the crowd.  
Brooke's family was cheering like crazy in the front row. Her mother had pulled out a Polaroid camera and was snapping away as fast as the pictures could print out the front. To the left of the stage, every single one of her students (she had noticed not a seat was empty) was on his or her feet, clapping, stomping, and chanting her name. She laughed and smiled so wide, she could feel her lips stretching from ear to ear. In that moment, it was she who felt like a rockstar.

"You're very popular," Dr. Malcolm observed. He had turned to her, still brandishing his camera-ready smile.

"My family and my students," Brooke told him. She pointed her family in the front row. "Mom, with the camera, Dad in the red, my older brother Ryan and his wife, Rachael, and my older brothers Danny and Keith and their respective girlfriends, Tracy and Samantha." She then pointed to her section of students and waved. "My Zoology 1 classes."

"Those are all—all of your students? "

"Every single one," Brooke replied. "There are 113 of them, I only teach two sections."

"Because of all of your research, I assume." Dr. Malcolm didn't ask, he stated, which gave Brooke the impression he knew a lot more about her than she knew about him. He had mentioned he had done his research. Knowing that made Brooke more than a little uncomfortable.

"Smile, or—you're going to worry everybody."

Brooke replaced her expression of confusion with her best smile as the two walked up the stairs to the stage. Dr. Malcolm withdrew his arm from Brooke's and limped over to his seat while Brooke walked slowly to the podium. She took the notecards out of her pocket, and thanked the President as she took his place on stage.

"Good morning!" she greeted brightly. "My name is Brooke DiAngelo, and as President Tanner mentioned, I am a professor of Zoology here at S-B-U. She glanced down at the notecard Dr. Malcolm had written and then looked back at the audience to continue: "I know you all must be extremely eager to hear what Dr. Malcolm has in store, but first, I'd like to explain to you the implications of the human desire to contain and control nature." She paused again briefly, not glancing away from the crowd or cameras as she changed her notecards and began her own speech.

"Our world is changing fast. Over the past 500 years, humans have changed our entire lifestyle. We began to challenge traditional thought. Technology developed, the thirst to expand and explore became insatiable. As the edges of the map began to be filled in, our species began to expand outward. The more we pushed our surroundings, our surroundings began pushing back. Constant conflict caused species to go extinct in the blink of an eye. Luckily, we were blessed with minds that were fascinated by the natural world, those who wanted to explore and preserve, not explore and destroy like so many before them.

"Unfortunately, the more fascinated we became, the more some felt we had a right to these animals. Public zoological parks began to open all over the world in the 1800s and the idea spread like wildfire. Zoological parks or "Zoos" were the perfect way to get up close and personal with the world's wildest creatures. Although zoos have contributed to inspiring conservationists and wildlife conservation efforts as well as raising public awareness to the severity of the situations of endangered species all around the world, they have a very dark side. When humans attempt to control an uncontrollable force, situations can turn for the worst very quickly."

Brooke went onto explain the dangers of zoo life for the keepers, the animals, as well as the public. She talked about the more obvious dangers of privately owning wild animals. She had made sure to focus and expand upon large and poisonous reptiles more than she had originally planned. She discussed how trying to control and recreate an ecosystem is impossible anywhere other than an enclosed laboratory.

"Everything alive is fighting for survival," Brooke began her conclusion. "Plants, animals, and bacteria are born fighters. If you recreate an ecosystem and put it in a modern setting or if you attempt to introduce new species of plants and animals to a foreign environment, there are two main possibilities: The introduced ecosystem will either brutally invade or overtake the original ecosystem, or the original ecosystem will do everything in its power to destroy the invading species. Either one will be destroyed, or they will both destroy themselves. Great care must be taken when considering the conservation and preservation efforts of today, because it could result in a tomorrow that should have never been.

"Everything alive is fighting for survival," Brooke repeated, "The human species included. If we are not careful to respect natural boundaries, it is us that could be considered invasive. We have been fighting so long against nature, that the tides might just turn, and we might be on the losing side." She paused. "Thank you."

Applause rippled through the stadium, with the largest celebrations being heard from the front row and the sidelines. Brooke smiled and thanked the crowd again. When the last of her students had stopped cheering, she addressed the crowd once more.

"Thank you so much," she said, and then glanced quickly at her last card. "Now, I am honored to welcome to the podium world famous mathematician and self-proclaimed Choatician, Dr. Ian Malcolm of the Santa Fe Institute." She stepped to the side of the podium and joined the audience in welcoming Dr. Malcolm up to the podium with applause.

Dr. Malcolm greeted the crowd, and Brooke went to walk back to her seat. "I, uh, I'm going to need your assistance, ahh, if you don't mind." Brooke nodded and took a step back toward the podium. Dr. Malcolm smiled and told the crowd: "This, this is my favorite way, it's, uh, the simplest way to explain my Theory. I've used it many times before and it never fails." He paused. "Professor, are you aware of what I'm about to do?"

"I have no clue," Brooke replied.

Dr. Malcolm asked Brooke to hold up her hand and make a right angle so her fingers were almost horizontal to the ground. As he took the cup of water Brooke had ignored on the podium, he explained to the audience that he was going to put a drop of water on the edge of her hand. "And, Professor, uh, which way do you think it the water is going to go?"

Brooke shrugged, but suggested it would roll straight down the back. Another chuckle-growl from Dr. Malcolm. He slipped his fingers into the water, and aimed the droplet so it would land on the edge of her hand. Brooke saw the cameras had focused in on her hand and the image was being projected on the screen. Everyone in the stadium and at home was able to watch the droplet roll off the back of Brooke's hand.

"So that, uh, was the expected result," Dr. Malcolm said. He gently wiped away the water from Brooke's hand. "But when we repeat the experiment, what will happen? Where will the drop go this time?" He directed his last question at Brooke.

"The same way?" she replied, though it was more of answering a question with a question. Without responding, Dr. Malcolm put another drop of water on her hand. This time, the droplet slid down the front of her hand. Brooke raised her eyebrows. The third time, the drop didn't even move.

Dr. Malcolm repeated this experiment 10 times in a row. Four times the water did what was expected and rolled down the back of Brooke's hand. "Ah, but notice," he said. "It never takes the same path."

He thanked Brooke as she returned to her seat. "Because of microscopic imperfections in Professor DiAngelo's skin, and, uh, because of the orientation of the capillaries, the hair, and the muscles just below the skin had an affect on the—the direction in which the water moved. If the Professor's skin was truly as, uh, _perfect_ as it appears—" Brooke's heart did a little bit of a quick pitter-patter when she heard the way Dr. Malcolm had practically purred the word perfect. She was suddenly very aware of where his fingers had brushed her skin and how he hand so very gently wiped the water away time after time. Once, he winked at her, but she ignored it. She shook her head slightly, and returned her attention to his speech. "—the initial prediction would be accurate 100 percent of the time, so long as there were no—no outward interference by wind or the weather, or, ah, my hand shaking or the Professor's hand shaking or changing the angle of her hand just slightly. These are what, as I'm sure you all know, are called variables."

He paused. "This is the perfect example of Chaos Theory, because nothing in life is perfect or controllable—not even our own skin. Life is, ah, unpredictable. You go to work or school every morning, thinking you'll be home that night. And I know you're all very careful people, but, uh, sometimes, you get hit by a bus, or struck by lightening, or have a heart attack. Car accidents happen every day. We cannot control an object we created ourselves, how could humans as a species even begin to believe they stand a chance controlling something alive, something that, uh, as Professor DiAngelo stated, is trying to survive. That's a living being's only job: to stay alive. And it will fight."

The lecture started to take a turn for the weird after that. Brooke was reminded why his name was connected with dinosaurs. About a year ago, a man began making quite the ruckus about an island inhabited by dinosaurs. Everyone thought he was nuts. Brooke had only gotten a brief overview of the whole situation, because at the time she was researching elephants and teaching classes in Africa. With other—what she felt were far more important—things on her mind, she excused it as a crazy story fit for the National Inquirer, and refused to waste time discussing it with students or colleagues.

Despite her reservations, the way Dr. Malcolm spoke, she was drawn in. He had a particular cadence when he spoke. His tone fluctuated, and he stuttered often but it wasn't distracting. In fact, it made the way he spoke more unique, more mesmerizing. It gave him a sense of added passion, a bit of drama. He described this Island, and how some crazy old man decided he had too much money and far too much time, so he wanted to recreate the dinosaurs. He used DNA found in mosquitos encased in amber, and then used frog DNA to fill in the gaps created by time and decomposition. Brooke shook her head; she knew how that was going to end before Dr. Malcolm explained.

Using frog DNA in a species you want to remain all female? Did they have any herpetologists or zoologists on the team? What would give them the idea that using an animal in which sequential hermaphroditism ran in many species? Brooke shook her head to herself, and then kind of stopped.

What was she thinking? Dinosaurs? Really?

Who the heck was this man, and how in God's name had he scored a broadcasted lecture by Stony Brook University? Was this some sort of joke? Brooke had hoped being a part of this seminar would add substance to her career and reputation, not destroy it. Here she was, sitting on stage, providing supporting information for a madman. What was she doing?

She bit her lip and ran her fingers through her hair as she watched Dr. Malcolm finish his lecture. He was grasping the podium tightly, his eyes scanning the crowd. Brooke did the same. Faces of disbelief, or sincere intrigue, of boredom, and of mockery. She looked over to her family. Her brother, Keith, was leaning forward, interested. Danny and Ryan and Rachael had broke off into their own conversation. Her parents looked worried. As if she felt her daughter's distress, Brooke's mother looked over and met her eyes. Her eyebrows raised and she mouthed what Brooke could only assume was "Wow". Her father noticed the exchange and gave his daughter a sympathetic look. Brooke smiled at her parents, and looked back to Dr. Malcolm.

She couldn't look at her students; she couldn't look at Dr. Kaplan. She felt so embarrassed to be sitting on stage with this man. A bit of anger began bubbling inside her, she felt like her department betrayed her. She felt like a fool.

"Life, uh, well it found a way," Dr. Malcolm concluded. "Life will always find a way."

There was an extended pause. Brooke sat up straight and began clapping politely, and others followed suit. It started slow, then quickened to a dull roar. Brooke's eyebrows raised. Those who had looked doubtful were standing on their feet, applauding with smiles on their faces.

_Maybe they're just happy it's over, _she thought cynically to herself. Dr. Malcolm thanked the crowd, and returned to his seat. President Tanner took to the podium and motioned for the audience to please sit and quiet down.

"I'm sure many of you are wondering why we have allowed such a widely known, controversial topic to be allowed here at Stony Brook University," he began. "We are world-renowned for our terrific science community. Our students and staff make new discoveries every day, some that are not met with instant acceptance. Our paleontology department has been fighting for years to make any progress on the evolution of dinosaurs. Just because something seems far-fetched, or even "crazy", does not rule it out as being truthful. The staff here stands behind Dr. Malcolm, and we are looking into research and discovery of this island, and possibility the prosecution of the man responsible. There are talks and whispers of a second island, 'Lost World' if you will." Beside her, Brooke heard Ian chuckle darkly. "Nothing has been decided yet. We only ask that our students, our staff, our local citizens, and our viewers at home to consider what was said today, and change your point of view of technology and the negative impacts unrestricted use may bring. Thank you so all so much for coming out to the stadium, or for tuning in at home. Thank you."

And with that, the call from the cameras saying: "And you're out!" signified the end of the seminar. Brooke stood up, her mind clouded with confusion. What had just happened? It was a lot to wrap her mind around. She suddenly felt the extreme urge to lock herself in her office with some hot tea and loud music. She needed time to digest.

"Would you mind?" Brooke was torn from her thoughts by Dr. Malcolm. He had offered his elbow to her. "I'm, I, uh, don't mean to bother you, but standing for nearly 30 minutes on my bad leg, well it doesn't do me any good."

"What happened to it?" Brooke asked as she gently took his arm and allowed some of his weight to be placed on her.

"A Tyrannosaur," Dr. Malcolm replied. Brooke raised an eyebrow. "Ah. You don't believe me."

"I'm not quite sure what to believe," she responded truthfully.

"Tell you what," Dr. Malcolm said, the tone of his voice lowering. He took the hand of his intertwined arm and gently took Brooke's hand, caressing her palm with his thumb. A lump rose in her throat. She looked away from him, trying to find her parents in the crowd. She had no idea what they would make of this. She didn't think they would be too happy to see her holding hands with a man of such scientific controversy.

Dr. Malcolm squeezed her hand to bring her attention back to him. Her green eyes met his brown, and he revealed the slightest smirk. "There was a lot we didn't get to talk about…personally today. What do you say to dinner? I'm going to be in town for the next couple of weeks, you could, uh, show me around Long Island…" Though he had asked innocently enough, the suggestive look in his eyes betrayed him.

"Dinner as a date, no," Brooke replied firmly. "But I do have many, many questions for you, Dr. Malcolm—"

"Please, call me Ian—"

"Dr. Malcolm, no offense, but at the moment, I would rather our relationship be strictly based on academics and purely professional. However I would love to have dinner so you could explain more about the Chaos Theory, as well as the island of the dinosaurs."

"It's a start," Dr. Malcolm replied, and Brooke made sure he saw her roll her eyes. He squeezed her hand gently again. "But I'll take it. How's, uh, seven o clock?"

When they returned to the locker room/designated hair and make up station, Brooke wrote down her address. "Seven o clock?" she checked. He smiled at her, his eyes lighting up.

"Wear something, uh, on the formal side," he told her as he was handed a black cane. He turned away from her. Before she could protest, he added over his shoulder: "I'm not one for…small gestures."


	3. Kelly

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Brooke cancelled her classes for that day so "her students could get a head start on their papers". Or at least, that's what she wrote on the announcement she posted outside of the classroom. She still had to figure out how to address her students. Hopefully, after dinner with Dr. Malcolm, things would become clearer. And if she still couldn't find the words, she wondered if she might persuade him to come to her class personally. That would be a tall order. She knew that he probably got paid quite well to speak to the entire university.

She leaned back in her chair and placed her feet on the desk. She closed her eyes and replayed both of the speeches in in her mind. She had set her VCR to record the lecture, but the contraption was so damn temperamental. Though it may seem vain, Brooke wasn't interested in watching Dr. Malcolm's speech again. Since they were going out to dinner, she would wait to have her questions answered, rather than attempting to figure out them out for herself. She really wanted to watch her opening statements, so she could judge how well she did, and if she could stand alone from the controversial topic of Dr. Malcolm.

There was another reason Brooke had cancelled her classes. One section was held from 12pm to 1:50pm, and the other from 3pm-4:50pm on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Since she didn't return to her office until 11:30am after the lecture, she decided that not only was she ill-prepared to talk with her students, she needed to go shopping. The only articles of clothing she owned that were "on the formal side" were reserved for funerals or church. She needed to run to the mall, then go for her daily run, and then get ready for the date with Dr. Malcolm.

_Not a date,_ she chastised herself. _Two colleagues. That's it._

She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She couldn't believe that she was going out with Dr. Malcolm. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive—Brooke thought quite the contrary—he was overtly confident (well-exceeding cockiness, but at least he knew what he was talking about), and was possibly a raving lunatic. Brooke didn't want to start any sort of relationship (platonic, professional, or otherwise) with someone who might later be admitted to the looney-bin. Besides, something about him gave off the impression Dr. Malcolm wasn't the "relationship kind of guy", and Brooke wasn't into frivolous sexual activities. She had gone through that stage when she was in college, and the situations never turned out well. Someone always got hurt. It was usually Brooke. She was ready for something steady.

As far as shopping goes, Brooke knew nothing about fashion past jeans, shorts, and t-shirts. Date or not, she did want to impress Dr. Malcolm. Maybe a little visual persuasion could coerce him into speaking privately for her classes...

So she called in backup in the forms of her two best friends: Amy and Jen. Amy would be able to help with the clothing, and Jen would be able to help with Dr. Malcolm. Jen had just graduated with a Masters in civil engineering, and had minored in math as an undergrad. She was very aware of the goings-on of the math world and all its progress. When Brooke had told her friend that not only had she lectured with Dr. Malcolm, but would also be going out to dinner with him, Jen freaked out a little bit.

"I could tell you a lot about him," Jen had told her on the phone. "He's like a rockstar in the Math world."

"I don't know if that's something be so proud of," Brooke had joked. Jen didn't find it very funny.

x-x-x

The women were on a strict time limit, so Jen and Amy directed Brooke immediately to Macy's. While Brooke browsed, they chattered on.

"He says he did _research_ on me," Brooke told them. "It's like he knew so much about me without even meeting me. How is that even possible? Sure, I have my Thesis and my articles, but the way he implied it, he wasn't speaking strictly of my academic career."

"From what I heard, he's extremely thorough in just about every aspect of his life," Jen replied. "Though he preaches Chaos Theory, if he can, he likes to be in as much in control of his own life as he can be. When it comes to women…" she paused. "Well let's just say there's been a few _interesting _articles in MT Mag."

"You guys have your own rags?" Amy asked. "What the hell do they write about?"  
"It's a monthly _journal, _and believe it or not, ladies," Jen protested over the teasing of her companions. "We engineers and mathematicians lead extremely interesting lives, and once you start working for large-scale companies, or for the government, or for foreign governments, or for all three, you become kind of a big deal. Such is the case of Dr. Malcolm. Besides, he doesn't keep his affairs private."

"Affairs?" Brooke questioned.

"He's smooth with the ladies," Jen replied. "He's been married once or twice, I believe. Definitely once. Definitely divorced. Has a young daughter, too." Brooke gulped.

"Good thing this isn't a date, huh?" Amy said, nudging Brooke playfully in the side. "Or you'd be in trouble, wouldn't you?"

"Oh yeah," Brooke murmured, turning her full attention back to the clothing racks. She couldn't help but feel just a slight tightening of her chest.

"Hey, at least he's a hot nerd," Amy said as she pulled a dress off the rack. "Oh, man, you'll slay him in this, Brooke."

Brooke and Jen both agreed with the statement of his attractiveness. He certainly was a sight for sore eyes, and Brooke would love to find a woman who thought otherwise.

The dress Amy held up was lovely, and simple; it was just what Brooke was looking for. It was a black, long sleeved off the shoulder cocktail dress. On the neckline and cuffs was white satin, probably four or five inches thick. The cufflinks were large rhinestones. The dress had a curved silhouette, which would be perfect for Brooke's figure. She smiled and took it from Amy and scurried off to the dressing room.

It wasn't often Brooke got excited about clothes—especially dresses—but this one was different. It was perfect. The right size, the right fit, the right length. It was sexy, but in an oddly conservative fashion. Her curves were obvious, but the skirt did not cling to her legs. The bodice hugged her upper body, but only her shoulders and a couple inches of her chest showed. Not one bit of cleavage. Most importantly, it was cheap.

When she walked out of the dressing room, a few men passing the section turned their heads. Although she appreciated the approving glances of strangers, the smiles on her friends' faces were what did it for her. As they nodded their heads in approval, Brooke was sold.

After changing back into jeans and her blouse, the girls perused the shoe section. "Red would be sexy as hell," Amy said, holding up a pair of cherry-red pumps. Brooke shook her head.

"I'm not going for sexy, I'm going for formal and professional," she insisted. "Besides, I will look like a baby giraffe trying to walk in heels that high."

Despite Amy's protests, they found a nice pair of 2-inch, nude colored pumps that Brooke could walk comfortably in. "You're going to look phenomenal," Jen encouraged. "I hope you don't mind me taking a few pictures when you're all done up, but there's a chance this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

The three returned to Brooke's house at 2:30. Amy had class at 3:00 and Jen had to finish up some paperwork so she could get out of work early. Both promised to be back at 6:00 sharp to help Brooke with some makeup and to do her hair.

"Be just hopping out of the shower when we get here," Amy instructed. "We want you to look as fresh as a daisy. We've got an impression to make."

"It's not a date," Brooke protested.

"I never said it was," Amy replied with a wink. "You filled that blank in yourself."

"I know what you're thinking. It's not."

"No," Jen said. "But it is a possible business opportunity. You were blessed with beautiful tits and running has made your legs kickass. Use what you got to get what you want."

x-x-x

Brooke could hardly recognize herself in the mirror. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, which Amy had styled. Jen had applied the smallest amount of makeup—even less than what she had worn on television. But there was something…different. It was probably just the dress, but Brooke couldn't stop staring at herself in the mirror.

They had decided to keep her hair down. "You want this to be professional," Amy had said. "I would have suggested a neat bun, but with some men, it's like you show a little neck and they think you're giving them the OK to take a bite." Brooke assured her friend she did not want any of that, so they brushed her hair down and then blew it out just a little bit. A good coating of hairspray kept every piece in place.

Her make up was very simple. Jen used the thinnest line of black eyeliner, some pale pink eye shadow, and just a bit of mascara. The combination made Brooke's eyes pop. The tiniest bit of lip-gloss and a dash of blush finished off the look.

Jen lent Brooke a pair of silver hoop earrings to match Brooke's silver elephant pendant necklace. Though Amy suggested Brooke wear some sort of ring or jewelry, Brooke declined. She didn't like feeling weighed down, and she didn't want to seem so far off from her regular self. Dr. Malcolm was going to be seeing two completely different sides of her. She didn't want him to think there were actually two sides, or that she was putting up some false front. She didn't want to give the impression that she was only interested in one part of him.

Jen and Amy left Brooke's house at a quarter to seven. When Brooke took Felicity out for a quick walk, she caught a few of her neighbors looking over in surprise. She smiled, waved, and then quickly made her way back to her house.

At 7:15, the doorbell rang, and Brooke let out a huge sigh of relief. For a few minutes, she was sure she was being stood up. But when she opened the door, she saw Dr. Malcolm standing before her, looking quite apologetic. His eyes swept obviously over her outfit, and she couldn't help but blush. A smile broke across his face.

"You look stunning," he said smoothly.

"You're not so bad yourself," Brooke replied. He wore all black as he had earlier in the day, but the clothes were certainly more formal. He wore a black button-up shirt tucked neatly into black dress pants. His tie was black, with the thinnest lines of gold in the pattern. His black shoes shone so Brooke could practically see her own reflection, and his black sport coat had an almost metallic shine to it.

"Thank you," he replied. He paused, and then said: "I'm, ah, sorry about this, but we're going to have a tag-a-long tonight." Brooke tilted her head to the side. "The reason I'm spending a few weeks here instead of working with Stony Brook University over the phone and through mail is because, well, because my seven year-old daughter Kelly, and my ex-wife just moved here. And it, ah, it just so happens she decided that since I was here, she could jet off—off to Italy with some of her friends and leave me alone with Kelly. I could have gotten a sitter, but it was extremely last minute. Ah, about an hour ago, last minute. I understand if you'd like to reschedule."

Brooke smiled in relief. Just his daughter? She was afraid another scientist or mathematician—or worse, another woman—would be joining their dinner. "That's fine!" she assured Dr. Malcolm. "I don't mind at all, as long as your daughter doesn't."

"Perfect," Dr. Malcolm said, clasping his hands together. "All right, she's waiting in the car, so if you're ready we can, uh, getting going."

Brooke grabbed her purse off the hook behind the door and stepped outside. After locking the door behind her, Brooke was escorted to a little red sports car by Dr. Malcolm. From the front seat emerged a young girl, who Brooke would never guess was Dr. Malcolm's daughter until she looked into her eyes. Kelly had beautiful dark brown skin with round facial features, much softer than her father's defined jaw. She was very slender, and a little short for her age. Her purple dress looked a little large for her. Long black hair was pulled back in a French braid, and it was so neat Brooke wondered who had done it (as her own father knew nothing of women's hair or how to style it). At first glance, she looked nothing like her father. But, despite all differences, Kelly's eyes were the tell. Big, dark brown, and intense. Kelly looked Brooke up and down, not hiding her skepticism.

"Hi, Kelly, I'm Brooke DiAngelo," Brooke said, extending her hand. She did not bend or kneel down to greet her. If there was one thing she learned about children from her cousins' kids, it was that after four or five, they demanded to be treated like "a big kid". There was no way Brooke was going to be condescending to a seven year old, or she would have absolutely no chance of winning her over.

Kelly met Brooke's hand, but instead of saying "How do you do?" or "Pleased to meet you", she asked: "What are your intentions with my Daddy?" She was very serious.

"Kelly!" Dr. Malcolm said. "What have I told you about—" Brooke put her hand up, and told him it was okay.

"It's nice to see a lady concerned about her father," Brooke told him, then turned back to Kelly. "My intentions are strictly professional. Today we did a lecture together—"

"I saw, you look different on TV."

"Yeah, dresses really aren't my thing," Brooke admitted with a nod. "But your father insisted on formal attire. Your dress is beautiful, by the way. Don't worry, your father and I are going out to dinner so he can explain his Theory and his work a little more."

"And the dinosaurs?" Kelly asked.

Brooke nodded. "And the dinosaurs."

"Do you have any affiliations with any local broadcasting agencies or newspapers?"

Brooke's jaw dropped open. She glanced at Dr. Malcolm, who was rubbing his temples with his thumb and middle finger, shaking his head. "No," she told Kelly. "Nothing like that, why?"

"Because I don't want to turn on the TV and see you telling everyone how crazy my Daddy is." Kelly crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Kelly!" Dr. Malcolm sounded exasperated. "That's—that's more than enough, thank you—"

"Well it's happened before!" Kelly insisted. "Do you know what it's like to be the Dinosaur Man's kid? 2nd grade is a dog-eat-dog world, Daddy." Brooke smiled for a moment, and then was struck with the thought behind Kelly's words. She was being extremely serious, and Brooke could only imagine how the little girl got teased for having a supposed nut-job for a father.

"Stop scrutinizing my date," Dr. Malcolm told Kelly sternly. "Professor DiAngelo is an intelligent woman, and is truly interested in discussing academics." He turned to Brooke, and she nodded.

"That's all I want, right now," Brooke told Kelly. "I would never do anything to hurt you or your father. I just want to get to know him a little more."

"Right now," Kelly replied dubiously, turning back to the car so she could slide into the back seat. "Just wait, you'll see."


	4. Promises

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Brooke and Dr. Malcolm (she refused to call him 'Ian', and asked she be called Miss. or Professor DiAngelo to further prove to his daughter that it wasn't a date) didn't get to talk much about the Chaos Theory nor the island of the dinosaurs that night. Most of dinner was spent focusing on Brooke. Kelly was determined to know everything about Brooke, which Brooke didn't mind so much. It made her a little uncomfortable, sure, but Dr. Malcolm was going to be in town for at least a month while he worked with the university, so Brooke would have rather gotten all of this out of the way first. The only reason it really made her uncomfortable was the way Dr. Malcolm kept nodding. When Brooke would offer an answer to one of Kelly's many questions, occasionally Dr. Malcolm would nod his head as if remembering and confirming previously learned information.

Other than that, the evening was quite pleasant. Kelly seemed to be warming up to Brooke, just a little bit. Her questions had smoothly transitioned from strictly work/background related to preferences of television shows, movies, and books. When she reflected on the dinner later, Brooke was aware that she and Kelly had conversed more than she and Dr. Malcolm.

_It's almost like I'm on a date with his kid, _she thought when they started the conversation.

"What is your professional background?" Kelly initiated, and Brooke couldn't believe she was speaking with a seven year-old.

"I'm a Zoologist," Brooke replied. "I study animals and their livelihoods—habitats, behavior, social skills, as well as do some research in evolution. I'm currently working on my PhD, but right now I have Bachelors in Zoology and Animal Behavior, as well as a Masters in Zoology."

"Hmm," Kelly replied, and Brooke realized she had gone a bit over the seven year-old's head, which was never her intention. "How old are you?"

"I'm 25," Brooke replied.

"That doesn't seem so old," Kellie replied, still appearing the slightest bit confused. "Daddy's 38."

"I'm so glad you remember, Kellie," Dr. Malcolm replied sarcastically. Kelly stuck her tongue out at her dad. Dr. Malcolm smiled at his daughter and added: "But you're right, Professor DiAngelo is quite young for her profession."

"Are you a genius or something?" Kelly asked.

"Goodness, no," Brooke replied. "My parents thought I was some sort of prodigy when I was younger, but I'm just an exceptional learner. I love to read, and something about animals just clicks in my brain, so I take in related information extraordinarily quickly. I excelled in and hated school, so I skipped a few years and graduated both high school and college before I was 20, and I completed my Masters in a year and a half. Since then, I've done a lot of research and I have been teaching college courses since I received my Masters. I've also achieved my Professorship, which usually takes a few years because you have to write a certain amount of articles."

"Oh," Kelly said.

"Professor DiAngelo has done things most people don't do until they're at least 30," Dr. Malcolm offered, and Kelly nodded in understanding.

Brooke then tried to steer the conversation toward Kelly. She asked about school and her grades, if she had any hobbies or extracurriculars.

"School stinks, I have all As, I like to draw and I do gymnastics."

It wasn't much to work with, but Brooke was determined. "Gymnastics, huh?" she said. "I danced a bit in college, but I can't even do a cartwheel."

Kellie's eyes widened, and Brooke knew she had done a good job. "Really?" Kelly asked, incredulous. "Not even a cartwheel? That's the easiest thing in the _world_ next to, like, a summersault or something!"

"I bet you'd laugh at my summersaults too," Brooke told her. "I always find some way to mess them up so I hit my head or wind up flat out on the floor."

"I have _got_ to see that!" Kelly sounded a little _too _excited to see Brooke fail at something, but it was okay. Brooke was getting somewhere.

"Well, maybe you could teach me how," Brooke offered. "I would love to learn, because I always get laughed at by my family at parties when my cousins start showing off. But they don't want me to learn, because they want to keep their entertainment…I would really love to show them."

"I don't know…" Kelly said, and she sounded a little suspicious. Brooke had to think quickly.

"Well, I mean, if you don't think you could, I totally understand," she said, putting her hands up. "A lot of people have tried, and none were successful. I'd probably be a challenge." Out of her peripheral vision, she could see Dr. Malcolm smiling.

"Oh, I could teach you!" Kelly said confidently. "Time and place, Professor, I'll have you summersaulting and cartwheeling like a professional."

Brooke smiled. "How about some time this weekend?" she offered, looking to Dr. Malcolm. He winked at her, and turned to his attention to Kelly, who was demanding she be able to spend time with Brooke this weekend so she could teach her gymnastics. Mid-sentence, she turned abruptly back to Brooke.

"Wait a second," she said, and Brooke thought she was done for. "What do I get out of this?"

"The joy of helping someone in need?" Brooke offered. Kelly raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Kelly—" Dr. Malcolm began, but Brooke waved her hand.

"No, no, no," Brooke replied. "She's right. It wouldn't be fair if she spent time and energy attempting to teach me to summersault and cartwheel, and got nothing for her labor. Do you like animals, Kelly?"

"Not reptiles."

"Understandable," Brooke replied, attempting to hide her smile. "What about elephants?"

"Yeah…"

"What if I told you I could bring you behind-the-scenes at the Bronx Zoo and actually meet some of the animals I work with?" Brooke offered. "Does that seem like a fair trade?"  
"That seems like an awful lot," Dr. Malcolm said, giving Brooke a questioning glance.

"Oh, not at all," Brooke replied. "I'm working with the Bronx Zoo for my PhD research, and part of the whole thing is acting like a regular keeper. Regular keepers get to bring guests backstage. I've brought my parents a few times to meet the elephants. It's really no problem at all." She turned to Kellie. "Does that seem like a fair trade?"

"Yeah!" Kellie replied excitedly. She turned to her father and asked his permission.

"We can all go," Brooke said. She turned to Dr. Malcolm and joked: "You can go to a zoo where nothing will outwardly try to kill you."

"No reptiles!" Kelly said quickly.

"We will not even go near the reptile house, I promise, we won't even take that path."

Dr. Malcolm agreed to the whole arrangement, and then excused himself to use the bathroom. Brooke's eyes followed him as he walked away from the table. He was shaking his head and smiling, as if he had just witnessed the most unimaginable scene. This made Brooke smile, proud of what she had accomplished.

"Do you like my Daddy?" Kelly asked Brooke. "Like, _like him like him?"_

Brooke shrugged. "I don't know yet, I don't really know him."

"Do you want to date him?"

"It's crossed my mind a few times," Brooke replied. "But I'm sorry to say I don't know him enough yet to make that decision. We really are just colleagues Kelly. But I promise you, if any of that changes just a little bit, I'm going to ask your permission to go out with him, okay? You don't have to make a decision just now, because I'm not asking yet. And maybe I won't ever. Maybe we'll just be friends." Brooke noticed Dr. Malcolm returning, but didn't say anything while Kelly continued, and didn't let Dr. Malcolm know she saw him, either.

"I hope you don't date him," Kelly told her. Brooke saw Dr. Malcolm stop behind his daughter, not making a sound. She had to try really hard to pretend not to notice. So she tilted her head to the side at his daughter.

"Why not?"

"Because you're really nice," Kelly replied. "And Mommy says Daddy is a flake. He's always making promises he can't keep. You're really, really nice, and he might hurt you like he's hurt Mommy and me." Brooke gulped and nodded her head.

"I'll be careful," Brooke told her. "And make sure to ask you first, okay?" She paused and looked up, pretending to see Dr. Malcolm for the first time. She smiled and said, "Oh, you're back."

He forced a smile, but looked very wounded. The sparkle in his eyes was gone, and his brow was furrowed. When he sat down, Brooke bit her lip.

_That must have been a stab to the heart,_ she thought. _Ouch, just ouch._

Brooke and Kelly carried on a different conversation for the rest of the night. Dr. Malcolm observed, and maybe commented once or twice. Kelly's observation had obviously had an effect on him. When Brooke took Kellie to the bathroom, Brooke looked back and saw Dr. Malcolm run his fingers through his hair and put his head in his hands on the table. He seemed so distraught.

But, by the time they got back to the table, he was "back to normal"—or as normal as Brooke had ever seen him. Though she offered to help with the check, Dr. Malcolm covered it, and they got up to leave. He was once again without a cane, and limped a little. Brooke held out her elbow, but he declined. Brooke bit her lip and shook her head. Against her better judgment, she took his hand in hers, squeezed it gently, and pulled away, all without looking at him. She wished she could convey she knew what was on his mind, but could only hope that her gesture helped the slightest bit.

Dr. Malcolm asked Kelly to stay in the car while he walked Brooke up to her front door. Brooke shook Kelly's hand and told her she absolutely couldn't wait for her gymnastic lesson before leaving the car.

"Will the elephants like me?" Kelly asked. Brooke smiled.

"They'll love you."

Dr. Malcolm and Brooke walked slowly back up to the front door. "She's really, ah, really taken to you," he commented. "I've never seen her warm up so quickly. You're great with her."

"She's a smart girl, she takes after you," Brooke replied. She turned and smiled at him. "And I'm very serious about having you guys over this weekend, and I think a trip to the zoo would be great, as well. I don't want to cause her psychological problems by making false promises. Tomorrow morning? I can pick you guys up around 8:30."

Dr. Malcolm smiled. "I, uhh, think this will be really good for her. She seems to be struggling in school. Hopefully your, ah, confidence will rub off on her a little bit." He paused, and pushed a strand of hair very gently away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Brooke's heart rate quickened as their eyes locked. "There is one condition," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his fingers sliding down her jawline and back to his side.

"What would that be?" Brooke's heart raced and slowed abruptly and she attempted to use every bit of willpower not to allow the blood to rise to her cheeks.

"You have to call me Ian," he murmured, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Please. If you'd like, if you'd still like me to call you Professor, I respect that, but I'd rather you call me Ian."

"That's fair…" Brooke replied. "Can I ask you a favor then, Ian?"

"Well that all—it depends on what it is," Dr. Ma—Ian replied.

"Since we still really haven't gotten a chance to discuss anything dino or chaos related, I am still at a loss to explain it to my class. Their last class is on Wednesday, and we're having a cutesy little party thing for both sections. I was wondering if you might come and speak with them? I totally understand that this is a _big_ favor, and I'll arrange to have you paid if you'd like—"

Ian took her hand and squeezed it, as she had done to him back in the restaurant. "It's no problem," he told her. "After the way you and Kelly hit it off, I—I owe you."

"Great, we can discuss more this weekend when you guys hang out?"

"Sounds excellent."

"Goodnight then, Dr. M—_Ian,_ I'm sorry," Brooke said, blushing just slightly. "And thanks for dinner." Ian leaned down to kiss her, but Brooke dodged, quickly explaining: "I'm sorry, it's not you, I have an agreement with someone…" She motioned just slightly to the car.

Ian raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Ah," he said. "I understand." So instead, he took her hand and shook it, squeezing gently. "Have a goodnight then, Professor."

"Please," Brooke said as she withdrew her hand. "Call me Brooke." She smiled and moved quickly into her house, closing the door swiftly behind her.

_What the hell just happened?_


	5. Car Ride

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Brooke rolled out of bed the next morning at 6:00am. It was a little early for her on a Saturday, but she had places to go and people to see. She dressed quickly in spandex shorts, a sports bra and a loose fitting t-shirt. She tossed her hair up into a messy ponytail (it was 6:15, who was going to see her?) and tied on her running shoes. As she moved through her morning routine, she turned on the radio and sang along loudly to Van Halen, Aerosmith, and Cheap Trick as they blasted through the speakers.

Felicity was not so eager to wake up. The golden retriever crawled out of bed, took a few laps of water, and then lay down at the front door until her owner was ready. Brooke attached the leash and the two were out the door.

Brooke liked listening to music during her runs, but her Walkman had been on the fritz lately, so she resolved today she would run to the sounds of suburbia. She and Felicity enjoyed three miles of birds chirping, cats meowing at doors to be let in, cars starting, and even a few lawnmowers being revved up. As she jogged along, she studied the sky carefully. It looked perfectly clear, and the air was warm with the sun just peaking over the horizon. It was going to be a picture-perfect day for the zoo.

When the two got back about a half an hour later, Brooke took a quick shower. While she was toweling off, she made a quick call to Debbie Sanders, the head of the Animal Husbandry department to confirm she could bring two guests back to meet the elephants. Though she received some minor teasing from her boss about bringing her 'new boyfriend' ("He's a colleague!" Brooke had insisted), plans were squared away, and Debbie would be expecting Brooke, Ian, and Kelly around 11:00AM, about two hours after the zoo opened.

"What am I doing?" Brooke asked herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had been fussing with her hair for about 10 minutes before realizing she was being silly. She brushed her hair back and then put it up in a neat ponytail. She had been going through possible outfits in her mind, but with a few shakes of her head she cleared the cloud that had set in on her brain.

_This is not a date,_ Brooke reminded herself_._ _We're going to the zoo to meet elephants. With his daughter. He has a kid. This isn't a relationship thing. This is a weird thing. This is not a date._

So instead of staring at her closet for fifteen minutes, she picked out a pair of khaki shorts, a grey camisole, and a light green, long-sleeve button up shirt. She tucked her camisole and left her shirt unbuttoned. She adjusted the collar and clasped her elephant necklace, tucking the back under the collar. When they met the elephants, she would have to put the pendant so it hung over her back. Her favorite calf, Themba, liked shiny things, as did Sabrina, one of the older juveniles. They had almost ripped the necklace off her quite a few times. Finally, it seemed, Brooke had learned better.

At 8:00, Brooke slipped her feet into her hiking boots and grabbed her small backpack and ID badge from the kitchen table. She quickly called Ian to make sure he and Kelly were ready to be picked up, and copied down directions on how to get to his ex wife's house. After making sure Felicity had food and water and her snake and Chinese water dragon had their heat lamps on, she left the house.

She followed the directions Ian had given her carefully. His ex wife's house wasn't as far away as Brooke had originally thought. Only about a half hour west of Stony Brook, in the nice, quiet, town of Oyster Bay. It was a large, light blue house. It was colonial style, with (what Brooke could only guess) probably about 4 bedrooms, with a big front yard enclosed by a white picket fence. Hedges lined the border of the front and backyard, and it had a wraparound porch. She pulled into the driveway slowly and hopped out of the car.

Kelly walked out the front door with a spring in her step. "Good morning!" she greeted brightly. Brooke smiled and greeted her with the same enthusiasm. Behind Kelly, her father stepped out slowly. Brooke couldn't prevent herself from getting a good up-and-down look. He was wearing black jeans, black boots, and a loose-fitting black button-up shirt (though about four buttons were left undone at the top). His shirt was tucked into his jeans, which were secured with a black belt. His hair was slicked back just slightly, pushing the curls toward the back of his head. For the first time, Brooke saw him using his cane. With his black-rimmed glasses, he looked very severe.

"Black's your thing, huh?" Brooke asked, teasing slightly. Ian smiled, and the severity of his appearance blurred.

"It's slimming, don't you think?" he replied, placing his hand on his hip. He looked her up and down obviously. "You look lovely."

"Well thank you," Brooke replied, crossing her arms across her chest. She glanced at his cane. "Your leg bothering you, today?"

"Not yet," Ian replied. "But I'm sure after a day of walking on uneven ground and pavement—"

"Oh stop complaining, Daddy," Kelly said as she climbed into the back of Brooke's Jeep. "We're going to meet elephants!"

Ian looked over at Brooke with an exasperated expression, "It's only 8:30," he said. "Only 8:30, and she's already being quick."

"She's your daughter," Brooke replied with an amused raise of her eyebrows. She turned and walked over to her car. Ian followed, sliding in the front passenger's side. Brooke hopped in beside him, put on her seatbelt, and pulled out of the driveway.

In the first half hour of the drive, Kelly asked about one hundred questions. Some included: "What kind of elephants are they? What are the elephants' names? What are they like? Do they do tricks? Which one is your favorite? Are they your favorite animal?"

Brooke explained the different elephants and their personalities, and added that no, they certainly do not do "tricks". She included that her two favorites were a calf named "Themba" (who was mentioned before), and her mother "Zia". When Brooke informed that her favorite animal was not, in fact, the elephant, Kelly prompted her for more information.

"You're not going to like this," Brooke replied. "But my favorite animals are alligators and crocodiles."

"Ugh, why?" Kelly asked.

"Because they're amazing creatures," Brooke replied enthusiastically. "They've been around since the time of the dinosaurs, and in the past 10 years or so, we've learned amazing new information. I originally wanted to do my thesis on the social lives of saltwater crocodiles."

"They have social lives?" Ian sounded skeptical.

"Well you, sir, of all people should be _very_ aware that reptiles aren't the bumbling monsters they've been made out to be—especially not the larger ones," Brooke replied, glancing over at Ian. "There's a man in Australia, Steve something, he's been living in the bush for years trapping and relocating "rogue" crocodiles and releasing them into safer areas so they don't get poached. In the meantime, he's done behavior research and published some papers. Apparently, they're great parents. The similar behavior has been seen in alligators, but since alligators are naturally more docile, they didn't think it would carry over. Mother crocodiles protect their nests fiercely, and guard their young up into their first year of lives. They also have quite the love life—" she paused. "But I won't go into that part. Either way, I tried to persuade the University to send me to Australia, but that was far too expensive."

"So you got stuck with rotten elephants," Ian said, feigning disgust.

Brooke nodded, playing along. "Living in Africa was _terrible_," she said. "Getting to work with baby elephant rehabilitation? Ugh. Worst two years of my _life_."

Ian reached his hand across the center console and placed his hand just above Brooke's knee. He squeezed very gently as he said: "You poor thing…How did you ever survive?" His tone was low, and he spoke slowly. There was intention behind his simple statement. Brooke glanced over her shoulder to see Kelly's reaction. Somewhere between Brooke explaining her love of crocodilians and the sudden flirting between Brooke and her father, Kelly had closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. Brooke looked back to the road, and then glanced at Ian quickly. He smirked; she blushed and turned her eyes back on the road.

"I have a question for you," she said, her eyes never leaving the road.

"Okay, shoot."

"Well, I have a thousand," Brooke replied. She took one hand off the wheel and removed his hand from her knee. She pretended to be annoyed, but really, she was distracting herself with not-so-kid-friendly thoughts. When his hand was safely back on his own knee, and hers returned to the wheel, she continued. "But there's one I've had since our first introduction."

"What—ah, what would that be?"

"What sort of 'research' did you do on me?" she asked. "You said that you had done your research so you were aware of the type of person I was before you decided to lecture with me. At dinner last night you seemed extremely familiar with all of the information I shared with your daughter."

"I, ah, I read your thesis, some papers, and some articles that you had published that were, uh, relating to evolution and conservation," Ian replied. She didn't want to look at him to see his expression, but he sounded amused. "And I asked around. Your name is certainly not un—unknown in the science community, Brooke, I hope you know that. It wasn't too difficult to find old professors, talk to colleagues…hell, I, well, I even talked to some of your students."

"My students?" Brooke asked, incredulous. "That's…that's a little far, isn't it?" She felt violated. But it did explain why Natalie, Lydia, and Jerome had persisted about religion.

"Well, I certainly didn't mean to impose," Ian said. He took one of her hands off the wheel and held it gently. "I really don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, but I, ah, I hope you understand why it was absolutely necessary to know as much as I could. I was trying to make sure I knew what I was potentially up against. But, uh, you see, I didn't know if Stony Brook's support was real, or if they were using you to call me...ah, what is it that they call me? Oh, yes, uh, a 'nutjob'." His thumb caressed the palm of her hand.

Brooke glanced over at him and nodded. "I get it," she said. "I just feel, naked in front of you, I guess. A little violated. Not something I'm used to."

Ian nodded. "I understand, and I'm sorry." He squeezed her hand, and Brooke's heart raced. She withdrew her hand, glancing nervously in the rearview mirror, checking to see if Kelly was still asleep in the back seat. Brooke put her hand back on the wheel and bit her lip. It wasn't that she didn't want him to hold her hand, but she wanted to have a serious conversation with him about dating first. She wanted to know where she stood, and make sure he knew she wasn't looking for anything less than serious. Then, she'd have to clear it with Kelly. How, in 24 hours, had she gone from wanting to remain colleagues to seriously considering dating him, she had no idea.

_It's probably just a physical thing_, she thought to herself. _He's got that tall, dark, handsome thing going on. And he's intelligent, and confident, flirty, and great with his daughter. What's not to be attracted to?_ She glanced over at him as he looked back at Kelly and gulped. The 'v' in his partially unbuttoned top revealed a good portion of his chest, which was tight and muscular. 'Dating' certainly wasn't the only thing on her mind.

To escape her thoughts and the awkward silence, she turned her full attention back to the road and asked Ian: "Would you tell me the story behind your leg? With the T-Rex?"

Ian chuckle-growled and out of her peripheral vision she saw him nod. "It's…it's a good one."

"Why'd you leave it out of your speech then?" she asked. "You could've shown pictures of the scar tissue, used it as evidence."

"Or evidence that I got attacked by an alligator."

"Is that what it looks like?" Brooke asked.

"I suppose," Ian replied. "A really big, uh, crocodile, maybe. It grabbed my torso. The limp is from a really bad compound break I got when it threw me."

"So, it went to swallow you whole, or did it try to tear you?"

"It would have just swallowed," Ian replied, "Like it did with the goat that was left out for it. But I got lucky, because it tripped, and then, uh, got distracted with another member of the team."

"That's interesting," Brooke mused.

"I'm glad _you_ think so."

"I mean, it sucks," Brooke defended. "But with all of the evidence pointing to the likeliness of birds of prey being more closely related to dinosaurs than modern-day reptiles, you'd expect it to be more of a grab-and-tear-er, not a grab-and-gulp-er." She paused. "I'm asking this in the most respectful, most innocent way that I can possibly manage." She saw Ian turn his head. She glanced at him, and his eyebrows were raised. "But can I check out the scars sometime? I want to compare it to the wounds left by crocodilians."

"'Checking out scars', is that what the, uh, kids are calling it these days?" Ian joked. Brooke laughed and shook her head.

"Purely scientific purposes," she told him. He chuckle-growled and reached over to push a stray hair (that Brooke was pretty sure didn't really exist) behind her ear.

"Whatever you say…" His thumb traced down her jaw before he withdrew his hand.

Brooke narrowed her eyes at him. "Just tell me about the T-Rex."

It was something out of an old Sci-Fi movie. He retold most of the parts Brooke already knew—the insane millionaire, the secluded island off of Costa Rica. He talked about how this psychotic man brought his grandchildren in—a young boy a little older than Kelly and a girl of about twelve or so—to the island, and shipped them off in the tour cars with paleontologist, Dr. Alan Grant, paleo-botanist, Dr. Ellie Sattler, and lawyer, Donald Gennaro. Ian, Sattler, and Grant were in one car, with the kids and the lawyer in the other.

While touring, the power was cut in an attempt by one of the workers to steal embryos (which Brooke had already heard). While the cars waited in place, a T-Rex made its appearance. Apparently, it was "the small one". The Rex broke over the fence and began poking around and attacking the first vehicle with the children. Gennaro had abandoned the vehicle, leaving the kids to their doom.

Dr. Grant had gotten out of the car first. Dr. Sattler had gotten out before the whole fiasco started, she was out somewhere in the field working with the island vet and a Triceratops with a pharmacological-induced illness. Dr. Grant waved a flare around madly, attempting to get the dino's attention. His plan worked, and he was able to throw the flare so the T-Rex would follow the light and movement.

"But, it wasn't enough," Ian said. "The Rex, uh, it started to follow the light, but Tim—he was stuck under the car. Alan—he needed—he needed more time. So, I, uh, took matters into my own hands." Brooke glanced over at him. He had this glassy, far-away look in his eyes. His flexed his hands on his lap, stretching his long fingers out and then pulling them back into a tight fist. After looking back at the road, she looked back at Kelly. Her head was against the side of the car, eyes closed, mouth slightly ajar. Ian continued.

"So, I, well I took another flare and started waving it around," he said. "The T-Rex turned on me. He—well, she, but they called her 'he'—charged me. I ran, but obviously that wasn't enough. He grabbed me by the middle, lifted me up and shook his head. Shocking that I didn't break my neck. But he tripped, or something…or something because I was let go—I was flung, I was flung into whatever shack he had crashed into. That's when I my leg broke. After that, I don't remember much. I made a, ah, a tourniquet of sorts out of my belt, and Dr.—Dr. Sattler and the gamekeeper, Muldoon, came and found me. The Rex killed Gennaro, who was hiding in a bathroom. What a _coward_. They had me on morphine, after—after that, I think. It's what, well, it's what they told me. I remember, I remember moving around, we had to go to this safe house while Dr. Sattler had to go restart the electricity. I…I think that's where I died."

"You what?" it was all Brooke could do to restrain herself from a surprised exclamation.

"Oh, oh yes," Ian replied, his tone solemn. "I think I was dead for about an hour, or so I'm told. Thank God for the doctors in Costa Rica."

Brooke shook her head in amazement. She didn't really know what to say so she just replied with a murmured: "Wow, that's incredible. Thank goodness you survived."

"Still want to see that scar?" Ian asked. There humor of his tone was edged.

Brooke nodded slowly. "Oh yeah, definitely," she said. "Especially because you described the head shaking. I have photos on file, records of large crocodile attacks. We are aware that birds are suspected to be closely related to dinosaurs, but they're more like raptor's right?"

"That's what's been theorized, yes."

"So we can't just completely deny a possible relationship between dinosaurs and modern-day reptiles. The two sections must have branched somehow…"

The two fell into silence. Brooke was running genetic variation possibilities in her mind. She tapped the steering wheel impatiently.

"Do you like zoos?" she finally asked Ian, giving up on trying to figure out anything evolutionary while driving.

"Not particularly," Ian replied. "They're the essence of chaos, though. They, uh, create this environment where there's this false sense of, uhm, false sense of security and they try to control these animals that are not meant to be controlled and when things go wrong, they go wrong very quickly. They also, uh, are no replacement for the wild that wild animals desperately need. You?"

"I used to love them," Brooke admitted, "I thought it was great that people could get up close and personal with animals and learn to love and respect and want to care for them. I love the fact that I've been able to work so closely with the elephants. But then I saw them out in the wild." She shook her head slightly, visions of the herds of elephants on the African plain flashing in her mind. "Needless to say, I will never see zoos the same way." She paused again. "Elephants are _highly _intelligence. And because their level of intelligence, they tend to…snap in captivity. They have certain psychological requirements that need to be satisfied for them to be happy and healthy. More often than not, those needs are not met."

She paused again, trying to think of a good example. She looked at Ian, who was staring ahead at the road. She looked away again. "It's like if you and I were to live in a bedroom—the same bedroom, possibly with two or three others—for our entire lives. But we don't spend the night in our beds, we sleep and eat major meals in the closet. You can snack in the bedroom. But you can't run. You can only walk in circles for so long. You can only nap for so long. Hell, you can only mate for so long before it's just too much monotony for our brains to handle. And they're not trained properly. Bull hooks and negative reinforcement are used over operant conditioning. Elephants don't use severe aggression or fear tactics in the wild—not the females, anyway. There is a hierarchy within a herd, but it's not severe. They don't respond well to negative reinforcement, they just get scared.

"So they start developing psychosis, and psychosomatic tendencies. For instance, there was this one elephant at the last zoo I was at in Mississippi last summer. Her name was Lucy. She was about 25 years old, and she was the first elephant to be born at the zoo and raised completely in captivity. She was smart and sweet. Her keeper, Marjorie, was a nice woman whom I got on with very well—except for her training methods. She was very much into the dominating sort of training. In the three months I was there, I got very close with Lucy. In the last few weeks I was there, I noticed a change in her. She would stand with her head against the wall for _hours_. When she didn't do that, she would pace with her trunk against the wall.

"Of course, I mentioned this to the staff. Marjorie blew it off, saying that she went through stages, and within a couple of weeks would be back to normal. But something was very, very wrong. Lucy stopped eating, and would barely drink. Marjorie decided that if she didn't want to come when called, she wouldn't eat. I hand fed her watermelon and cantaloupe whenever I could. Finally, Marjorie "had enough of her disobedience", and so she called Lucy to eat. When Lucy didn't come, she grabbed her bull hook, intending to force the elephant out of her corner. I watched from the sidelines. Lucy saw the bull hook and—" Brooke snapped her fingers. "—that was it. She grabbed the bull hook with her trunk and flung it, and then pinned Marjorie to the ground by her chest. I jumped in, doing everything I could to distract her.

"Lucy charged me, so I ran and jumped down into the mote. Wound up breaking my arm and spraining my ankle, but luckily, Marjorie was pulled out with minimal injuries. After that incident, I did my research. It was not a rare occurrence." She shook her head.

"What happened to the elephant?" Ian asked solemnly.

Brooke allowed herself a small smile. "Luckily, Marjorie realized that it was her fault. So instead of Lucy being put down, she was moved to the Columbus Zoo in Ohio. I'll be heading there on the first of July. The Columbus Zoo is my last human-care facility I'll be working at. I've checked in with them already, and the curator, Jack Hanna, says she's doing very well. She has a lot more space to roam, and they don't use bull hooks."

"That's great," Ian replied. "What about the elephants we're going to see today, they're…well they're not in a stage of psychosis are they?"

Brooke shook her head. "Oh no, not Themba and Zia. Fortunately, Themba is far to young to develop anything of the sort, and Zia is from a much smaller zoo, so the Bronx is like paradise to her. However, I have noticed some psychosomatic behaviors in the older females, but nothing as urgent or as worrying as Lucy's. I promise, Kelly will be perfectly safe."

"Good to know…"

For the rest of the car ride, Brooke and Ian debated the pros and cons of zoological parks and aquariums. They discussed the theorized intelligence of most animals, and even discussed dinosaurs. Ian described how the Raptors were easily the most intelligent animal he had ever personally encountered. Their ability to "figure stuff out", was astonishing. They were able to figure out doors, test electric fences, and problem solve. They worked as a team, a terrifying, murderous team. Just hearing about it struck fear into Brooke's heart.

At a stoplight, she looked over at Ian and studied him quickly. He was lost in thought, staring out his window. She noticed a few scars on his face, neck, and arms, and presumed them to be from the T-Rex attack. A multitude of thoughts ran through her mind at the same time, clashing into one another and causing a mess. She didn't know what to think of him. He was a colleague, but could he also be a love interest? He flirted with her, but was that just his style?

As if he felt her eyes searching him, Ian turned and met Brooke's eyes. She turned away quickly just in time for the light to turn green. She gripped the wheel tightly, trying to position her face away from him so he would not see how the blood raced to her cheeks. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she felt extremely embarrassed to have been caught ogling him. But if he thought anything of it, he didn't state his concerns, which Brooke was grateful for.

When they arrived at the zoo, Brooke flashed her badge at the gate and was able to use the back entrance. Ian gently woke Kelly from her slumber, and in about five minutes, she was practically bouncing off the walls. They walked through the "staff only" paths, Ian and Kelly hand in hand. Brooke shoved her hands in her pockets, oddly feeling left out of the picture.

When they reached the main office, Brooke brought them in and introduced them to the staff. They all knew who Ian was before she said his name, and most of the staff praised Brooke and Ian's lecture. A few of them asked if Brooke and Ian were dating, which Brooke promptly responded with: "Oh no, of course not."

Her boss, Debbie, looked over Ian, and then looked at Brooke with a raise of her eyebrows. "Right," she said. "Whatever you say." She then turned to Kelly, who was hanging on one of Ian's wrists. "Are you ready to meet some elephants?" Kelly nodded enthusiastically, and took Debbie's outstretched hand.

Brooke watched Kelly and her boss walk hand in hand down the path. As she started to follow them, her own hand was clasped by Ian's. She looked over at him, and he smirked at her, raising his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes at him but did not withdraw her hand. _Just colleagues, _she thought to herself. _Yeah, right. _

She glanced over at him again, but his eyes were fixed, watching his daughter ask Debbie a million questions. "Eventually, we need to talk," she told him, looking away.

"About what?" he asked, squeezing her hand gently.

Brooke raised their hands. "This," she replied. "We need to talk about whatever this is."

"Okay," he said. "Then, uh, talk."

"Not now," she replied. "Later? When we don't have an audience."

Ian squeezed her hand again. "Okay," he said. Brooke looked over and met his eyes. Just one corner of his mouth was turned up. There was intensity in his eyes that made Brooke's heart skip a beat. His lips barely parted as he murmured: "Later."


	6. Slow and Steady Wins the Race

**Chapter 6**

* * *

_Thud._

"You almost got it!"

Brooke lay flat on her back, seeing spots against the sky. She blinked rapidly, then looked over at Kelly, who was standing just next to her. Behind Kelly, Ian was laughing. "Almost?" Brooke asked Kelly. "That didn't feel like I almost got it. It felt like the last seven times I've fallen."

Ian walked up and held out his hand. He had to use his cane to balance as he pulled Brooke up. "I wonder if I could help," he suggested to Kelly. "I could help her, uh, balance." Though he sounded completely innocent, he ran his fingers lightly up and down her spine. Brooke reached back and swatted his hand away, insisting she could do it without his help.

"I'm gonna have to go with Daddy on this one," Kelly said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Sorry, Brooke."

Brooke shook her head, while Kelly gave her father instructions on what to do. Brooke was amazed on how grown-up the seven year-old sounded. She could tell that Ian was humoring his daughter as he she told him what to. He grinned and nodded his head, but the moment Kelly looked away, he winked at Brooke. She rolled her eyes.

"You're bad," she said as she set herself up as Kelly instructed. She moved forward, putting her hands to the ground and swinging her legs up into the air. Ian caught her ankles and held her steady.

"You have great legs," he commented. "Do you run?"

"_Daddy!" _Kelly said. "Stop flirting and put her down!"

Brooke laughed as Ian held on for a moment more before gently guiding her legs to the ground, and then moving one hand to her side as she came up. His hand remained on her side as she stood up straight. Regardless, she smiled; for the first time, she was on her feet after an attempt.

"There you go!" Kelly exclaimed. "Now you've only got to do it like, twenty more times until you don't need help."

Ian's hand curled around her waist. "I'm happy to help."

"Daddy, this is _serious_," Kelly stressed.

"Oh, I know, very—_very_ serious." He ran his fingers up Brooke's spine, but his daughter didn't seem to notice. Brooke stiffened, but didn't swat his hand away. She turned her attention back to Kelly.

"Good—ready to go again, Brooke?"

"Heck yeah!" Brooke replied. She set herself up again, and Ian and caught her and guided her again. After repeating that motion about ten more times (taking a few breaks so Brooke didn't get too dizzy), Kelly told her father to stop guiding her. Brooke fell once, but after another try she completed a full cartwheel all by herself.

"Woohoo!" she exclaimed as she both feet hit the ground and she straightened up. "I did it! My first cartwheel!" She kneeled down and held her arms open. Kelly jumped forward and hugged her tight. "Thank you so much Kelly! You're an amazing coach."

"You're welcome—now do it again."

Brooke was made to do about fifteen more "perfect" cartwheels all by herself. She probably would have had to do more, but they were interrupted by Bobby, the pizza guy. He called hello from the fence of Brooke's backyard. Felicity jumped up from her shady spot under the tree and ran over, tail wagging. Brooke wasn't much for cooking (she could cook fairly well, but often didn't have the time) so she, Felicity, and Bobby knew each other well. The golden jumped up on the fence, and Bobby reached over to scratch the dog behind the ears.

"Hey Bobby!" Brooke greeted, walking over with Kelly riding piggy-back.

"Hey Brooke, how's it hangin'?" Though he was smiling, she saw his eyes wander to Kelly, then behind her (assumingly at Ian), and back to Brooke. His smile remained, but his expression changed momentarily.

"Pretty good—what's the damage?" Brooke watched carefully as he glanced back and forth from her to Kelly."

"12 bucks even."

Ian step forward and insisted that he paid. "Pizza for elephants and cartwheels, that's a fair trade, right?"

"Sounds good to me, Daddy!" Kelly said, loosening her grip and sliding off Brooke's back. Brooke smiled and agreed.

When Ian and Kelly walked away toward the picnic blanket they had set up near the tree Felicity had been napping under, Brooke turned to Bobby. His eyebrows were raised as he watched as they began to set it up. He noticed her hard look and shrugged.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's not something you see everyday."

"You are aware it's the 90s, right?" Brooke snapped, disgusted. "As in the 1990s, not the 1890s?" She shook her head and walked away. _Maybe it's time to change pizza places._

x-x-x

After dinner, Kelly demanded dessert. She said she was really "in the mood" for some "ice cream-y goodness". When Brooke and Ian agreed, Kelly demanded that Ian was the one to get it (even though Brooke knew the area better), and he agreed without question. Brooke wrote down directions as well as both her and Kelly's orders.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Brooke asked as she handed him the paper and a five-dollar bill.

Ian nodded. "Oh yes…" he paused and lowered his voice. "I think that, uh, Kelly wants to talk to you." He chuckled at the bill she had handed him and slipped it into her front pocket. He hooked his finger around the fabric, tugging gently. He smirked, and Brooke bit her lip. Not tearing her eyes away from his, she shook her head and removed his hand from her pocket.

"We still need to talk, too," she told him.

"We will," he replied.

"Go," she told him. "I can only handle one Malcolm at a time." She glanced out the window and into the backyard, where Kelly and Felicity were running around.

"Technically, uh, she's a Curtis."

"She's half of you, she's Malcolm enough," Brooke replied, looking back at him.

"You can't deny there's something here," he said. One hand went to her side. "There's been something here since the moment we met."

"I'm not denying anything," Brooke replied. She placed her hand over his on her side. "But it's complicated. Go get the ice cream." She removed his hand and walked away, heading out the back door.

Felicity ran up as soon as Brooke walked out, and Kelly was not far behind. The little girl flung herself into Brooke's arms. Brooke caught her and swung her around. She slowed, stopped, and placed Kelly back on the ground. Kelly asked for a piggyback ride, so Brooke bent her knees, and was promptly jumped on.

"You're a monkey!" Brooke exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the little girls' legs to ensure her safety. Kelly wrapped her arms tightly around Brooke, laughing as she urged Brooke to run.

"Hold on tight!" Brooke urged. She let go of Kelly's legs and stuck her arms out wide like an airplane and ran around the backyard. Kelly let out a loud "WAHOO!" and Felicity chased them, barking at their heels.

Out of breath, Brooke and Kelly collapsed to the ground. Both of them were laughing, doubled over and holding their sides. Brooke looked at the young girl as she sat up slowly. It had been just about 24 hours since they had officially met, and she was already quite fond of her. Kelly was like the little sister she never had (and truthfully, never really wanted, either). She reminded Brooke of herself at that age: easily excited, exuberant, observant, and humorous. She wasn't just "bright", she was extremely intelligent. Her intelligence gave her maturity; perhaps that's why she could stand her.

Usually, Brooke wasn't that great with children. It wasn't that she didn't like them; she just wasn't as natural or intuitive with them as she was with animals. But with Kelly, it was easy. She thoroughly enjoyed her company.

_Then again, it's only been 24 hours, _Brooke thought to herself. _Give yourself some time to see her other sides._

When the laughing subsided, Kelly crawled over on hands and knees and sat in front of Brooke. She took Brooke's hands and started to swing them gently until Brooke joined in. "Can we talk?" she asked.

"Of course," Brooke replied.

"Are you going to ask permission?"

Brooke almost asked "For what?" but instead was able to reply: "Your Daddy and I have some stuff to talk about."

"Is it OK if I don't give you permission?"

Brooke nodded. "Of course, Kelly. That's what we agreed on. If you don't give me permission, I will absolutely respect that." She paused. "Can I ask why?"

"You're so nice. I like you. I don't want you and my Daddy to hate each other, then I'll never get to see you again."

Brooke sighed and shook her head. She held Kelly's hands a little tighter. "Kelly, my relationship with you will not be determined by my relationship with your father. You and I can still be friends, even if your Dad and I aren't. You're the little sister I never had. I will always be here for you, no matter what. And I think your Dad will respect that, no matter what."

"No matter what?" Kelly clarified.

"No matter what."

Kelly stood up and hugged Brooke tightly, resting her chin on Brooke's shoulder. Brooke sighed and squeezed back. She didn't regret her promise to the little girl, but it did make her wonder: _What have I gotten myself into?_

Brooke scooped Kelly up and carried her into the house. The two sat down on the couch and Brooke turned on the television. Kelly lay down on top of Brooke, her head resting gently on her chest. It was as if she had reverted back a few years, and Brooke wondered what exactly her home life was like. She seemed desperate for someone—not necessarily another parental figure, more like a friend.

The slam of a car door outside caused Brooke to look up suddenly. Kelly followed her glance, and they both watched Ian climb out of his sports car. Kelly tapped Brooke's shoulder, bringing attention to her big brown eyes.

"If I give you permission, do you promise to keep your promise?" she said quickly, her eyes glancing back and forth between Brooke and her father out the window. Brooke smiled down at Kelly and nodded.

"No matter what," she said.

"Okay," Kelly said. "You make my Daddy smile so much, and it's only been, like, a day. He likes you a lot, I can tell."

Brooke smiled and patted her hair gently. "I don't know what's going to happen—" the door opened, so Brooke dropped the tone of her voice. "But thank you. Having your permission means a lot. I hope you know that."

Ian walked into the room and smiled when he saw Brooke and his daughter lounging on the couch. "What a picture," he said, placing the brown bag of Carvel down on the coffee table. Plain vanilla for Ian, chocolate-strawberry swirl for Kelly, and chocolate chop cookie dough for Brooke.

Within minutes, the ice cream was devoured. Brooke was expecting the result to be a hyperactive seven year-old running rampant with an equally hyper retriever. It had the opposite affect though, and within a half an hour, Kelly crashed on the couch. Brooke looked to Ian and raised her eyebrows.

"I suppose now would—would be the time to talk?" he asked. She nodded. "Do you have a guest room?"

"I have a study," Brooke replied. "I would suggest putting her in my room, but there is a water dragon and a boa in there so if she woke up…"

"It wouldn't be pretty."

"We can go to my room so she won't be disturbed."

Ian's eyebrows raised and he smiled. Brooke rolled her eyes and ignored the look. When he put a hand on her waist as she led him down the hall, she pushed it off quickly. She opened the door to her room, flicked the light on, and made sure the door stayed open. She motioned for him to sit on one side of her bed. She sat down next to him, but with about two and a half feet in between them.

Ian reached out to touch Brooke's upper arm, but she moved away from him. "Listen, Ian," she began. "I know we obviously have chemistry, like I said before I'm not denying it. You're attractive, intelligent, and witty…but I'm not so sure about this."

"What aren't you sure about?" Ian asked. He slid his hand over Brooke's, and this time, she didn't pull away.

"What it is exactly that you want out of a relationship," she replied. "I'm not into frivolity. I've been there, done that. I know you have too. But I'm passed that stage in my life. My life is crazy enough already. I need something steady. Steady means slow, steady means exclusive. I would love to give it a try with you, but if you're not a steady kind of guy, I'm not going to try and make you one."

Ian's eyes softened from a mischievous sparkle to genuine concern. His smirk turned into a small smile. "I see where you're coming from," he murmured. "I understand. And you understand my—well my usual _intentions_ well. But, uh, you see, if the options are either to try 'steady' with you or to not have any part of you, I, well, I want to try steady. I'm willing to give it a try."

"Are you willing to take it slow?" Brooke asked, trying to hide the fact her heart was racing in her chest. "I mean, a couple of real dates to get to know each other first before anything—"

"Ah, but we've already had a first date," Ian pointed out.

"Your daughter tagged along," Brooke reminded. "That totally doesn't count."

Ian's fingers brushed gently against the skin of her forearm. "All right," he murmured. "Dinner tomorrow? I'll make sure to—to get a sitter for Kelly."

"Sure, that would be lovely," Brooke replied, glancing down at his hand. When she looked back up, Ian's face was just inches from hers.

"I'll pick you up at 6?" he asked. Brooke could feel the warmth of his breath, she could smell the vanilla. She looked from his lips back up to his eyes. Her heart was practically throwing itself against her ribcage.

Ian closed the gap between them, and Brooke let out a sigh of content as their lips met. It was _electric_. Fireworks seemed to explode around them. Something primal unleashed inside of Brooke, so quickly she almost wasn't able to stop herself. She put her hand on Ian's chest and pushed herself away slowly. Ian leaned forward again, this time aiming for her neck. She evaded him and moved back to the edge of the bed.

"Slow," she repeated. He looked slightly disappointed, so she reached out and took his hand. "Please?"

Ian nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "Slow," he said. "Okay."

"Thank you," she replied.

"Kelly and I should probably get going, then before I, uh, I can't stop myself." He didn't hide the way he looked her up and down. "God, you're beautiful."

Brooke blushed and thanked him for being respectful of her wishes. They rose from the bed and headed toward the living room. Before they reached it, Brooke stopped him and looked up. With her index figure, she motioned for him to lean over. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him one more time, very gently. He cupped the back of her head in one hand, fingers applying slight pressure to her scalp.

"Goodnight," Brooke breathed as she pulled away.

The mischievous sparkle had returned to Ian's eyes when he smiled down at her. "Goodnight," he murmured.

Brooke watched as Ian very gently picked up his daughter in his arms, holding her "firefighter style". It was amazing to see someone so physically large be so gentle with something so slight. He gave Brooke one last smile and wink as she held the door open for him. She watched him limp to his car and place his daughter very gently in the back seat. She waved one last time and then closed the door.

She released her hair from her pony rail and ran her fingers through it. With her free hand, she touched her lips gently, expecting to feel a static shot. Her cheeks were on fire, and her stomach was doing summersaults. Despite it all, she smiled, and walked over to the phone.

"Hey, Jen?" she said when her friend picked up on the other line. "We're going to need to head to the mall again. I've got a date tomorrow."

"With who?"

"The rock star."


	7. Just Blow

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Brooke and Jen went over to the mall after Church the next day. It seemed that Jen wasn't at all surprised by Brooke's decision. She wasn't completely against the idea, but she warned Brooke to remain cautious.

"Remember what I told you?" she asked. "Ian Malcolm has a bit of a well-known history with women. Not to mention, the affiliation with "the crazy dinosaur guy" might not be one you'd want to uphold publicly."

"Stony Brook University is behind him and I lectured with him so I don't think there's really anything much worse that can be said. Hopefully any affiliation with him won't have a negative affect on my work. I have made no public statements supporting him or his dinosaurs anyway, so I should be safe."

"What about the whole womanizing part of the equation?"

Brooke shook her head: "I know, I know, and I'll be careful. He's a tremendous flirt, and we've only kissed once but he's always pushing the envelope. He's very…what's a good word?" She paused. "He's very _tactile._" She explained all the touching of her knee and the brushing his fingers on her back and pushing imaginary strands of hair behind her ear.

"Oh jeeze," Jen replied. "What a hound."

"But I think he's willing to take it slow," she said. "I don't want to be one of those girls who are like: 'Oh, he'll change for me!'—because I don't think he's going to change, but I do think he's going to put the effort in and at least try to be 'steady'."

"What makes you so sure about that?" Jen gave Brooke an extremely skeptical glance.

"Something his daughter said on Friday night. Ian wasn't supposed to hear, but he did, and I really think he took it to heart. At least, he looked absolutely crushed."

"God, what did the kid say?"

Brooke explained how Kelly had gone from extremely suspicious to extremely protective of Brooke in a matter of a couple of hours. She explained the "permission" system she had suggested to protect Kelly's feelings, and how Kelly didn't want to give Brooke permission because of her father's history.

Jen's mouth hung open momentarily. "She called her own father a flake? How old is she?"

Brooke nodded. "She's seven, and she said that Ian had hurt her and her mom."

"He heard everything?"

Brooke nodded again.

"Wow," Jen said, eyes wide. "That sucks. That's really, really, rough. No wonder he's agreed to cool off. He probably feels like a piece of shit for a father. To hear your own child tell someone who's basically little more than a stranger that you hurt the child and her mother? Ouch. He's also probably a little jealous, too, that you two just clicked." She paused. "Or a little turned on by it all. You might be wearing an invisible sign flashing: MOMMY MATERIEAL." Brooke nearly spit out her drink.

"Oh no no no no no," she said quickly. "I am not "Mommy material". Not now, at least." She crossed her legs and placed a hand over her lower abdomen. "No long term visitors please." Jen laughed.

"I'm just trying to warn you."

"I will definitely keep my eyes open. I'm not trying to be anyone's mother. Friend/big sister to the kid? Sure. Ian's _lov-ah_? Maybe. Mommy? No thank you!"

"That's good to hear."

Brooke and Jen spent a few hours of the afternoon after lunch meandering around the mall. Brooke had called Ian earlier in the day to check what she should wear. He told her that attire was semi-formal.

"Let me guess," Brooke had said. "You'll be wearing black?"

Ian's only response was one of his chuckle-growls.

So Jen and Brooke searched the mall. Since Ian was probably going to wear black, Brooke wanted to wear a light color. After a couple hours of searching through endless racks of clothing, they found the perfect dress. It was a pale yellow satin cocktail dress with a white satin band separating the bodice and skirt. It had two thin straps with a sweetheart shape and a tight bodice. The skirt fanned out just slightly. Coupled with the dress, Brooke found a pair of low white heels, as well as a white clutch bag.

"This is the second and last time I'm spending this much money on a date," Brooke said as she paid the cashier what she considered far too much money for clothing. "I don't care if he's 'not one for small gestures', I can't afford this."

"Dating in the big leagues?" the cashier asked with a sly look and a wink as he ran her card.

Brooke shook her head. "No, just a mathematician who thinks he's a rockstar."

The cashier raised one of his eyebrows, obviously skeptical.

"I know, it sounds nuts," Brooke replied. "But he's got brains and muscles, and you know how often _those_ come along—"

"Preach it, girl."

"So of course I couldn't say no."

"Well, good luck to you, hunny."

"Thanks."

Brooke and Jen continued to wander around the mall for an hour or so after finding Brooke's outfit. The conversation wandered from dating in general to academic life and the workplace. Jen talked about how she was considering doing an apprenticeship abroad in Scotland and Brooke relayed her fears of going to Columbus Zoo. If there were any two people that were more alike and yet very dissimilar, Brooke couldn't name them. She and Jen could be exactly the same and entirely opposite at the same time. Although it may have caused some friction at the beginning of their friendship, nearly 16 years later they were still the best of friends.

The two confided in each other more than their other friends. Which, admittedly, sometimes felt a bit wrong. But in the end, there was only Jen and Brooke. It had always been this way. They had been through everything together. So Brooke had no trouble expressing her inner turmoil of the thought of sleeping with Ian on the first date. Jen also had no trouble telling Brooke that was a bad idea and had gotten her into trouble in the past. When Jen told Brooke she thought her own boyfriend, Nick, was going to propose on their upcoming anniversary, Brooke nearly had a heart attack in the middle of the walkway.

When it was time for the two to go their separate ways, Jen wished her friend the best of luck. Brooke thanked her friend for not harshly judging her decisions, and for bringing her back into check about the whole "sex on the first date" thing. It wouldn't be a bad thing for most people, but Brooke had a disappointing past, and she knew her friend was only looking out for her.

"If anything goes wrong or gets too weird, I'm going to be home all night," Jen told Brooke as they stood in front of Jen's car. "Call me or something. I'll pretend it's an emergency and rush to get you. Or call the police, whichever you prefer."

"I don't think the law is going to be necessary, but I'll hold you to the escape plan."

"Don't you always?"

"Very true…"

_Don't you always? _That comment stuck with Brooke as she walked to her own car. Jen's statement hung in between her ears, and they stung a little. A few words spoke volumes to Brooke, reflecting upon her past relationship choices. It also clued Brooke in on just how doubtful her friend was. Knowing her friend's doubt allowed doubt to seep into her own mind.

What was she doing, getting involved with a man like Ian? He was genius, but his academic career seemed to be taking a turn for the worst. He was extremely handsome and sexy, but with a bit of a sketchy past as far as women and relationships were concerned. He had a kid, for goodness sakes! Plus, he was 13 years her senior…what was she doing to herself? This whole relationship was sure to go up in flames. How could she possibly think this was a good idea?

_Stop._

Brooke shook her head and attempted to clear her thoughts. She couldn't start thinking like that. She couldn't enter into the relationship with doubts. She couldn't second-guess herself. She couldn't go into it thinking negatively, or else it would end negatively. No self-fulfilling prophecies allowed. She had to hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst, without necessarily focusing on the worst. She could do this. She was doing the right thing; she knew this relationship had the potential to be something. There was definitely something between them that they both had felt since their very first meeting. She had to focus on that energy.

She could do this.

x-x-x

Brooke paced back and forth around her living room. Her dress fanned slightly as she pivoted, walking along the same track. She wrung her fingers together to prevent them from playing with her hair and messing it up. Once again, Jen had helped her style it and had assisted with the application of some eyeliner, eye shadow, and mascara. Brooke assured her friend this would be the last time she put this much effort in, and she would make sure Ian knew it. Wearing dresses and going out to fancy restaurants just wasn't Brooke's thing, and she wasn't about to make it.

_Compromise, _Brooke chastised herself. If Ian was willing to go slow and steady for Brooke, then Brooke should be willing to dress up every once in a while. 'Every once in a while' being the key phrase. That was something she could handle. She had to encourage him into more productive, less extravagant dates. Museums, parks, movies, zoos, aquariums, fewer starred restaurants that didn't require a skirt. Hopefully she could get him to understand that jeans and t-shirts were more her style.

The doorbell rang, and Brooke nearly jumped out of her skin. Butterflies raced in her stomach, and blood instantly raced to her cheeks. A dinner between colleagues was one thing; a date was another matter entirely. Brooke despised first dates, and found them absolutely terrifying. She hadn't been on a date in at least six months, and the last one had gone so terribly, she really avoided going on any after that.

After a few deep breaths, she walked over to the door. Felicity ran circles around her legs until she opened the door and saw Ian. The Golden sat down immediately, wagging her tail furiously. Brooke sent her dog away from the door and stepped outside with Ian.

"Switching it up tonight, huh?" she asked him, indicating his clothing. Instead of his usual black suit, he was wearing gray pants, a black shirt, and a grey sport coat.

"The only two colors I wear: black and gray," Ian replied with a smirk. "There's no point in worrying over what outfit I'm going to wear. Simplifies things, allows the mind to be, ah, freer than the constrains of _fashion_." He said 'fashion' with quite a bit of disgust. Brooke was about to comment, but she saw the way his eyes ran over her. "You, on the other hand…you make fashion quite interesting." He reached out placed a hand on the curve of her waist. She averted her eyes and blushed. She placed her own hand over his and attempted to move it away but he curled his fingers around and used his index finger to ensnare hers and hold it still.

Brooke looked up to find Ian quite closer than he had been moments before. She tried to move her hand again, but he held tight. She narrowed her eyes as he pulled her closer, trying to cover how electrified she felt in his grip. "Ian…" she said, trying to sound stern. He chuckle-growled and pulled her another inch toward him so she collided into him. Something stirred in her and she bit her lip.

"What?" he asked, tracing her jaw with his thumb. He held her chin gently and closed the gap between them. His lips met hers and a shiver ran up her spine. His hand moved from her chin to behind her neck, and he slid the hand on her waist around her back. Brooke's hands moved to his lapels, and she curled her fingers around them, rising onto her tiptoes.

_Slow!_ Her conscious shouted at her. _Steady!_ Unwillingly, she pulled away from the kiss.

"Makes you, uh, not want to leave the house, huh?" he purred, pushing back her hair and kissing her gently on the neck.

"Ian, stop," she told him, inclining her head toward him and pushing him away. He pulled back with eyebrows raised. As not to discourage him, she slid a hand under his coat and gripped his shirt gently. "At least buy me dinner first." She gave him a sly smile. He chuckled and planted a kiss on her cheek, his hand sliding dangerously low on her back.

"Whatever you say, _Professor,_" he purred in her ear.

Brooke pushed him away playfully and evaded his grip as she walked toward his car. Slow and steady was not going to be as easy as she thought. He was persistent, and she didn't necessarily want to stop him. _Anything worth having is worth the wait,_ she reminded herself as he opened the door to his car. _It doesn't necessarily mean you have to wait _forever_, just long enough to make sure he's serious._

"Where are we headed tonight?" she asked Ian as he started the car.

"One of my favorite places on the island—do you like jazz?"

"Jazz music?"

"Yes."

"Sure, I mean I don't hate it. I don't really listen to it, really…well I haven't really been truly exposed."

"You're, ah, in for a treat tonight, then."

"Just Blow" was apparently one of the best jazz clubs on Long Island. It was west of Stony Brook, in Oyster Bay on the Long Island Sound. Ian explained that the title was a play on words in jazz terms. Telling someone to "just blow" would be telling a musician or singer to improvise, or just go with it.

Inside, the lighting was dim except for spotlights focused on a stage in the center of the club. Surrounding the stage were tables, lit only by candlelight. There was a little dance floor, where a few couples were moving slowly to the saxophone's smooth serenade and the supporting piano and a quick-paced patting sound of the drums. As Ian and Brooke sat down at their table, a trumpet and a bassist joined in. Menus were placed in front of them, and Brooke and Ian ordered a couple of drinks.

For a few moments, the two were quiet. Brooke placed her hands on the table and closed her eyes, trying to really listen to the music. It was much different than her rock and rock n' roll preference, but it was nice. The way the woodwind and brass blended and moved apart from each other, and the way the piano and the bass rolled along. She smiled as she felt Ian take her hand. She opened her eyes to see him smiling.

"You like it?" he asked, rubbing his thumb against her palm.

"It's lovely. Different, but good."

"What do you usually listen to?"

"Rock or rock n' roll, mostly. I'm a huge Aerosmith fan. Cheap Trick, KISS, Van Halen, Elvis, Billy Joel, the Eagles, the Beatles…you get the picture, right?"

Ian nodded. "Not bad," he conceded. "Do you play any instruments?"

"I took piano lessons when I was kid, and played flute in Elementary school and middle school. After that I just stopped."

"Lack of interest?"

"Lack of time. I was constantly studying or working, doing something," Brooke turned and thanked the waiter who had brought them their drinks. A Jack and Coke for Ian, and a Corona Light for Brooke. The two took a sip and looked over their menus. Ian ordered steak, and Brooke ordered chicken portobello.

After they had ordered, the topic of conversation changed abruptly. They started talking instead about Chaos Theory. Ian tried his best to explain it in a way in which Brooke would better understand. Instead of using only mathematical properties, he gave examples of common real-life situations. "Obviously, my stint on Isla Nublar was not an ordinary one," he added with a smirk.

He explained how Chaos Theory affected every living and even some non-living systems (such as computer programs), and that even though the entire property of the theory was unpredictability, after a while an observable pattern did develop, and they could predict how the system under research would ultimately come to fail. It all seemed a little contradictory to Brooke, but when she voiced her opinion, he explained that no theory was perfect.

"I just feel like Chaos Theory is kind of obvious," she said. "In the 'whatever can go wrong, will go wrong' sense. Chaos Theory makes sense to me, but now that it's been explained, I really don't understand why people have such a difficult time understanding and realizing it. It's based off life's imperfections, and of course, life is imperfect. Bad things are bound to happen—"

"We're not just talking about, uh, your—your every day 'bad things'," Ian replied. "It's absolute _chaos,_ or catastrophe. Chaos Theory it—it's supposed to be taken and utilized on a very large scale, such as Zoological parks or men with crazy dinosaurs—"

"However you used a very minute area to demonstrate," Brooke cut off. "The water on my hand."

"That was meant to represent a microenvironment," Ian replied. "It is the essence of Chaos Theory because you expect or plan—they plan for one thing, but something else entirely occurs. It is, uh, when people think that nothing can go wrong, when they feel like they have absolute control that things go very wrong. And it's not just a few things here or there. It's the infrastructure of a building collapsing, or a large-scale coup that takes down a government or," he paused and shook his head. "The imminent self-destruction of a zoological park that's trying to bring—bring extinct animals back from the dead."

Brooke still wasn't completely sold on the whole matter, but she didn't want to fight on their first date, so she nodded. "That's why you're going to have to explain it to my students on Wednesday. It's not that I don't get the idea behind it, I do. I see where you're coming from, I just don't _really _understand it to the point where I would feel comfortable debating it with my students and chance giving them incorrect information."

"I'm very—very interested to see how your students respond. I was quite surprised by the overall reaction at the University. While I was speaking I could see—I could see the doubt in their eyes, but by the time I finished up, I had developed a, ah, a fan base. I was stopped to take pictures and sign autographs and I—I even had people run up to ask me questions. Only a few students and citizens were harsh speculators. From a crowd that big, I was surprised. I wonder—wonder how your students will respond in a small, ah, closed setting where they feel very comfortable."

"Me too. I'm just hoping that they behave themselves. They're good kids, but they're opinionated. And you know how some college kids are: once they get a semester or two under their belt, they think they know everything about everything."

"You would know better than I," Ian smirked. "Weren't you still in college last year?"

Brooke chuckled and shook her head. "I've been out of undergrad for nearly six years and I don't miss a second. I always felt so insignificant, and I absolutely _loathed_ those who acted as if the knowledge of the entire world rested between their ears."

Ian nodded. "I agree, they have much to experience before they really _know_ anything. You, on the other hand, are wise beyond your years."

"I've been called an old soul my entire life," Brooke revealed. "I think it's one of the highest complements I've ever received. Something about it is terribly endearing."

Ian squeezed her hand. "You are no more insignificant than any other on the planet, by the way."

Brooke had wanted to reply with some sarcastic comment like: "Well gee, thanks", but the look in Ian's eyes stopped her. He had meant it to be endearing, not objective. He looked at her with the softest expression. So instead, Brooke averted her eyes to her drink. When she looked back up at him as she took a sip of her beer, he smiled. She put the glass down reached out and took his hand again.

Whatever moment they were having or were about to have was interrupted by the waiter bringing their dishes over. The mood of the conversation changed with the addition of food, and instead of picking up where they had left off they started another conversation anew.

After dinner was eaten and another drink downed on both sides, Ian stood up from the table and extended his hand to Brooke. "Would you like to dance?" he asked her. "This tune is my one of my favorites."

"What about your leg?" Brooke asked.

"Now, uh I'm not a cripple, Brooke," Ian reassured, a little harshly. Brooke obviously offended him. At her reprising glance, he changed his demeanor. His expression softened and he put on one of his award-winning smiles. "_Please_—" he sounded incredulous at the thought of pain. "—with you in my arms, I—I won't feel a thing."

"How many poor unsuspecting women have you used that line on?" she asked as she took his hand and stood up. Ian didn't respond, he just squeezed her hand and chuckled.

The dance floor was small, only about 10 feet by 10 ten feet to the side of the stage. Two other couples were there, swaying slowly to the music. Ian swung Brooke out and brought her back in tight. Her left hand was clasped in his right, her right hand rested on his shoulder, and his left on her lower back. Despite his "not feeling a thing", he limped, and had a very displeased looked on his face.

"I know I'm not that great of a dancer," Brooke teased. "But we've only been on the floor a minute. You don't have to make faces at me."

Ian shook his head. "It's not you, it's the pianist, he's, well, he's quite off."

Brooke closed her eyes and listened. Jazz to her sounded a bit scrambled, so she couldn't tell the difference. She shook her head and looked at him. "I'm sorry, I can't hear it."

He bent lower and inclined his head next to her ear. He hummed the melody the piano was supposed to be following, about two or three beats ahead of the pianist on stage. Brooke nodded her head, though was still able to enjoy the music. Ian smiled down at her, but every once and a while he would wince from the pain in his leg or shake his head at the pianist.

"How about I pick the next date?" Brooke suggested as they sat back down to dinner a couple of songs later.

"You're not enjoying yourself?" Ian asked, furrowing his brow.

"No, I am, really!" Brooke insisted. "It's just, this isn't me. Dressing up and going dancing at fancy places. I don't mind it every once in a while, but I would be lying to say I would enjoy it every time."

Ian didn't look pleased. "Where—where would you suggest?"

"I like the outdoors, I like museums, I like aquariums and zoos, even pizza and a movie would be fine with me." Ian raised his eyebrows, so Brooke quickly added: "I'm not saying never to do this again, I just can't afford a new dress for every date we go on." He nodded.

"I understand," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. "Fine, you pick the next date."

"Thank you, Ian," she told him with the best smile she could muster. He wasn't very happy with her suggestion, she could tell, but at least he consented to compromise.

The two spent the next few minutes in a semi-awkward silence while they had the first few bites of their desserts. Brooke's stomach was just starting to turn with anxiety and dread when Ian asked: "What time on Wednesday?"

"It's from 2-4 in the afternoon," Brooke replied, feeling a sense of relief. She thought she had ruined it all with a simple suggestion. "Are you going to be at the University beforehand?"

"I'm in a meeting from 10-12 with Dr. Kaden and a few of the assistant professors of the—the, uh, Mathematics Department," Ian nodded. "So even if it runs late, I'll definitely be able to go."

"Would you like to grab lunch before hand?"

"Does that count as your date?"

Brooke paused and thought for a second. If this was going to be a struggle with him, was the relationship worth it?

_Compromise,_ she told herself sternly. _It's all about compromise_.

"How about my date part one?" she suggested. "Then we can do something little afterward—would you like to come back to my place for some dinner? You could bring Kelly if you'd like. It'll count as my date, and we could do whatever you'd like for the next one."

"I'd want you to like it too, you know," Ian replied, studying Brooke's expression carefully. She smiled at him, trying to mask her uncertainty. "But dinner at your place sounds lovely. I'll see if I can find a sitter for Kelly, and if not, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to come along."

"Then it's a date."

The rest of the dinner past smoothly, with no further bumps in the road. They discussed Chaos/Catastrophe Theory a little more, and then Ian prompted her to talk about zoology. He mentioned a friend he had who studied Hyenas in Africa, a woman by the name of Sarah Harding. Brooke knew Sarah as well, and as she thought more on her relationship with other zoologist, she felt a tightness in her chest as she remembered Sarah mentioning how she had a brief romance with "some mathematician who had the tendency to think he was as good as God". Brooke had a sinking feeling she was presently sat across from that very man.

But for once, she didn't let it get to her. Sarah Harding was in Africa, a whole world away. She was extremely dedicated to her work, and no man could pull her from it. Brooke knew that she should feel secure in her budding relationship. After all, jealousy would only lead to trouble in the future.

At the end of the night, Ian walked Brooke up to her door. The entire car ride home she had thought about inviting him in, but she knew she couldn't. Despite any urges, any feelings that had flared up throughout dinner, she knew that for her own benefit she had to take it slow. She had to get to know this man, and he had to know her, before she could let him see her most vulnerable side. The mistake not to had been made once or twice in college, and she was not going to let that happen again.

So she turned and smiled up at him and thanked him for a wonderful evening. "I hope I didn't offend you by asking to take the next date," she said, her hand resting on the doorknob.

"Oh no, of course not," Ian said, his voice low. He traced his fingers up and down her upper arm. "Not at all. I uh, I suppose I was being selfish."

Brooke shook her head. "Not at all, you've been great."

"Great," Ian replied with a smile. He curled his fingers very gently around Brooke's upper arm and leaned down and kissed her. Brooke smiled briefly and kissed him back. She had one hand on his chest, but even as he wrapped an arm around her waist she kept her other on the doorknob.

On the other side of the door, Felicity had been woken up and was barking excitedly at Brooke's return. Brooke pulled away from the kiss and murmured: "I should go in." Ian, his lips still barely two inches from hers, shook his head gently and kissed her again. Brooke pulled away again and nodded. "Yes, I should."

This time, Ian conceded and released Brooke from his arms. She thanked him again for a wonderful evening, and he planted a kiss very gently on her forehead. "Goodnight," he said as he pulled away. She opened the door just a crack so her dog wouldn't get out.

"Goodnight," she said as she opened the door wider so she could inch in without Felicity bounding out. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

"It's a date."


	8. Classroom Discussion

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Brooke sat at the edge of her desk, swinging her feet and tapping her heels gently against the front panel. She wore a wide smile on her face. In front of her, Ian stood at the head of the classroom, addressing all 113 Zoology 101 students who had all shown up for their end-of-year party. After Brooke had addressed her class and thanked them all for a fantastic semester and they all had their fill of doughnuts, homemade treats, and various types of drinks, the discussion began. Brooke glanced back at the clock. 30 minutes of discussion had gone by, and she could not disguise the pride she felt in her students.

Apprehension had tightened Brooke's chest when it all began. She had shared her doubts with Ian on their last date. Her students were great, but she didn't want anything getting out of control. Not once in the 30 minutes had anyone shouted or accused Ian of being a nut-job. They spoke in even tones, waited their turns, and rose their hand when they simply couldn't wait. The discussion ran from Chaos Theory to Isla Nublar to evolution versus Creationism. Three controversial topics were handled with maturity Brooke could not imagine in 18 and 19 year-olds.

Ian seemed quite impressed as well. Every so often, he would turn back at her and smile or wink. Brooke noticed that some of her students noticed the exchanges at well. At one point, she met the eyes of her favorite student, Natalie, who had seen Ian's latest look-back. Natalie smiled at her professor, glanced quickly at Ian, and then back at Brooke. She raised her eyebrows suggestively. Brooke smiled and shrugged. Natalie seemed pretty impressed as she nodded her head and turned back to the discussion. Not all were so impressed. Lydia furrowed her brow, and a few of the other young women in the class looked skeptical. Brooke ignored their negative views on something they knew nothing about, and focused on how wonderful they were behaving, and how great they were able to debate controversial topics.

When asked her opinion, Brooke explained that she understood the Theory and believed it was plausible, she respected Dr. Malcolm's opinion, but in her very honest opinion she didn't think it would affect her life too much.

"What about the dinosaurs?" Jerome asked. "What do you think about that?"

Brooke's heart jumped as the class and Ian turned to her. "I think it's all very possible," she said after a long, awkward pause. She certainly was not prepared for this question.

"But do you believe it?"

"It's a very difficult thing for me to wrap my head around," Brooke said slowly. She had to choose her words very carefully. Ian had crossed his arms across his chest, looking slightly amused. "But Dr. Malcolm is a very smart man, and a renowned educator, mathematician, and chaotitician. I do not believe that he would falsify such a tale, nor do I believe that it is a truly impossible feet to recreate animals—you just need the time, money, and correct tools." She looked past Ian at her class. She challenged her class to challenge her.

Silence. Brooke smiled.

Ian clasped his hands together and turned back to the class. He pursued Brooke's challenge and encouraged the class to further expand and discuss "Professor DiAngelo's eloquently evasive response."

The discussion concluded about 15 minutes later, and floor was left to Brooke. She stood up off her desk. "Thank you, Dr. Malcolm," she said as she took his spot and he sat down behind her desk. He nodded to her, and she turned back her students. "And I wanted to thank you for the past hour. You are the future biologists, zoologists, conservationists, global ambassadors and politicians; you are the future. And you have given me hope in a world where over the past few years, a lot has been lost. You are the future of our planet, and as long as you continue to pursue your education and future fields with passion, enthusiasm, and mindfulness, I feel the world is in very capable hands."

The class cheered, but Brooke heard Ian made a sound of disgust behind her. She turned to him, and he was shaking his head, a small smile on his lips. Brooke raised her eyebrows, ignored him, and turned back to her class. She would have to figure out what that meant later.

Natalie stood up and procured a large square package from under her desk. It was wrapped simply, so Brooke didn't take notice of it before. But her student took it and walked up to her with the package held out. "All 113 of us pitched in to get this for you, so don't freak out. It only cost each of us about 10 bucks."

Brooke raised an eyebrow as she thanked her students. She took the package to the side of her desk so they could watch her open it. She unwrapped the package carefully, and a smile spread wide across her face. A beautiful, brand-new Nikon professional-grade camera sat in front of her in its box. Brooke covered her mouth with her hands and shook her head. She looked back to her students.

"I can't believe this."

"It's for Ohio and Africa and Australia and Madagascar, all the places you said you are going to and where you've wanted to go," Natalie explained. "You've just got to come to the Environmental Club meetings and show off all of your pictures after. Deal?"

"Deal—guys I can't believe this, this is far too much for me. Thank you!" She paused, beginning to take the camera out of its box. "Now I have gift for you. It's certainly not as wonderful as this—" she placed the film into the compartment on the bottom "—but I think it will mean a lot to you in the end." She fiddled with the camera in her hands. "Since you guys have to write a paper on Chaos Theory and its effects on wildlife and wild places and potential for destruction of zoological parks, and since you have been absolutely wonderful in this discussion and throughout the entire semester, I have decided to kill the final exam."

As the class began to cheer, Brooke raised the camera up and snapped a picture. She asked her students to please rise and assemble in sort of a group. "I want a get a picture of my most favorite semester yet," she told them. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Ian held out his hand, motioning for the camera,

"Let me take it," he said. "Get in the picture." Brooke nodded and quickly explained how to work the manual lens and instructed which button to press. She then gathered at the center of her students, who grabbed her hands, wrapped their arms around her, and clapped her on the back. Brooke smiled wider than she thought possible.

_Click. _

And it was over. Brooke gave hugs and high fives to her students, and reminded them to have their papers in her drop-box by the follow Wednesday. They said their final goodbyes, and then they were gone. Brooke sat down in one of the classroom seats and put her head down.

"I wasn't kidding," she told Ian as she looked up and glanced around the room. "This was absolutely my favorite batch of students, even moreso than those I taught in Africa. They were absolutely phenomenal. They didn't just sit here and listen. They engaged and they challenged conventional thinking. They were intelligent and passionate and creative, I honestly have been spoiled by them." She shook her head ruefully, cracking a small smile, amused with her own behavior. "It's not like I'm never going to see them again, I know I will, and I do get a little weird after every semester, but this was different." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry for behaving so silly."

Ian limped over to her, extending the camera out to her. "You are being a little silly," he said as she took the camera. "But it's not unwarranted. Anyone could tell—they could tell just how these students respected you. Hell, look at that camera. They adored you. You did good."

"Thanks." Brooke smiled up at him. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She turned her face upward towards him and he kissed her on the lips. Gently, and then with a bit of fervor. She thought of where she was and giggled a bit. "This is a bit too "Hot for Teacher" for me."

Ian chuckled and brushed his fingers down her jaw. "What time tonight?" he asked. She looked at her watch.

"Is six o' clock okay?"

"Yeah, I can get a sitter for Kelly." His thumb grazed her bottom lip and he smiled at her.

"This is dinner," she told him. "A date, I hope I'm not giving you the wrong impression."

"Of course not," Ian replied, his smile faltering just slightly. "You said _slow_, and slow I intend to take it." He then kissed her cheek, close to ear. "I'll, uh, see you tonight."

Brooke's heart skipped a beat and she gripped her camera tightly. She watched Ian walk away. He reached the door and looked over his shoulder. Brooke raised the camera to her face her eye. He smiled and winked at her.

_Click_. And he was gone.

Her heart returned to its normal rhythm. She stood up from the desk and walked down to her desk at the front of the room. She collected her things, placing the camera back carefully in its box. Everything she needed in hand or in a bag slung over her shoulder, she walked to the door. One last time, she turned and looked out into the classroom. Another semester gone, and she was about to be off to Ohio for her final captive elephant study. In the fall, she'd be off to Africa to do a final follow-up study on elephants in Nairobi. It would be a long time before she set foot in a classroom again.

She smiled and switched the light off.


	9. Cold Shower

**Chapter 9**

* * *

Music filled Brooke's small house from the front door to the back, and could be heard clearly in the office, the bedroom, and the bathroom. Billy Joel sung his _New York State of Mind_, and Brooke sang along loudly. She twirled in her kitchen, her apron fanning away from her jeans. She felt a strong pressure around her neck and arms, and stopped slowly. The wide, thick head of a yellow serpent appeared by her cheek. It's tongue flicked out twice, before lowering onto her shoulder.

"Sorry, babe," Brooke cooed gently, stroking between the snake's eyes gingerly. "I didn't mean to scare you, I shouldn't have spun around like that." As she remained stationary in front of her counter the snake's grip relaxed slightly, and Brooke gently repositioned the body so it was no longer tight around her neck, but around her shoulders and left arm.

Music still blasting, snake still wrapped around like a feather boa, Brooke chopped away at peppers, broccoli and cauliflower; what would be the garnishing of the chicken she was baking. She had gotten a recipe for roasted vegetables with garlic from her mother, and had basted the chicken with just a brush or two of a sweet and sour sauce. She glanced up at the clock. **6:15PM**. She was running late with her food prep, but Ian was running late too.

Just as she was adding the chopped garlic and olive oil, Michael Jackson's _The Way You Make Me Feel_ faded out. Before the DJ could make his transitions, Brooke heard the doorbell. She quickly turned the radio down, slid the tray into the oven, set the timer, and then walked over to the door. After a few deep breaths, she opened it.

Ian's eyebrows rose as he saw her. He leaned down, gave her a cautious peck on the cheek, and then said: "You've, uh, got something—something on your neck…"

"Oh, right, sorry." Brooke stepped backwards into her apartment and welcomed Ian in. Once the door was closed behind him, Brooke removed the snake from her shoulders and held her out in front of her. She positioned the reptile's head toward Ian. "This is 'Blondie'. _Python molurus bivittatus_, a Burmese Python. She was donated to the school, but I took her because they wanted to do some metabolic research on her and that involves a lot of stuff I would rather not discuss before dinner. She's very tame."

"Right." Ian didn't sound convinced, and his raised eyebrow showed his skepticism.

"Yeah," Brooke replied, feeling a little awkward. "…I'll be right back." She disappeared down her hallway and ducked into her room. She placed 5 and half-feet-long Blondie back in her specially designed 150-gallon tank that took up an entire corner of Brooke's room. After checking on her 15 inch-long juvenile Chinese Water Dragon, Xiǎo Kǒnglóng (Xiǎo for short), on the other side of her room, she stopped in front of the mirror.

As she was adjusting her hair, tying half of it back and running her fingers through the part left down, Ian appeared at the door. He leaned up against the frame. "Stop that," he said, referring to her preening. "You look as lovely as always." He paused. His eyes moved from her to the tanks behind her. When he saw Xiǎo, he visibly tensed up.

"What's that?" he asked, pointed to tank.

"That's my _Physignathus cocincinus_, my Chinese Water Dragon. His name is Xiǎo Kǒnglóng, but I just call him Xiǎo," Brooke replied.

"Interesting name…" he moved closer to the tank, inspecting the dragon as he basked on a rock under his special light.

Brooke chuckled as she walked closer. "It means "Little Dinosaur" in Mandarin," she explained. "Because their faces when they're juveniles look just like the pictures of-"

"Velociraptors. Ah, very apt choice."

"Right," Brooke replied with a nod of her head. "He's going to fill out much more as he grows…hopefully he'll mature to about three feet, but the dragons are so prone to illness they're very difficult to keep alive in human care."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because they're extremely prone to degenerative bone disease and severe eye infections and—"

"No, you say 'human care'."

"Yes I do."

"Don't—well don't you mean captivity?"

"Captivity is a harsh word with negative connotations," Brooke replied as she moved away from the tank. "I do use it occasionally, more specifically when the facility I'm talking about is less than respectable. But if the facility is nice or I'm speaking of my own exotics—"

"Do you have any more?"

"Nope, just Felicity, Blondie, and Xiǎo are the only non-human species in the household," she replied. "But for reputable places and those in my care, it's called 'human care'. I learned the phrase at this place with bottlenose dolphins in the Florida Keys. This place was better than any other I've ever been to. They're doing intelligence research, too! So I just started using the phrase. Not so negative."

"I see." Ian paused. "But isn't it all negative, from your stand point? As a zoologist, wouldn't you rather see these animals in the wild?"

Brooke paused. She looked from Ian to Xiao to Blondie. Would she prefer them in the wild? Absolutely. "But they weren't bred in the wild," she told Ian. "I rescued Blondie, and she's fed frozen rats. I have no ill feelings about her. Xiao, okay, I bought him. And somewhere in his family tree is an animal that was taken from the wild strictly to breed for the pleasures of humans. But he's from Petsmart, and he's doing pretty well, if I do say so myself. He seems happy, that is. I give my animals all that I can possibly give, and I think that's enough. I think they're happy, and I know they're healthy. Sure, the wild would be the best place for them, but honestly that's not an option.

"As is the case with most animals in 'captivity' now. They were born there, not snatched from the wild. They don't know. Well, there's instinct, like the elephant's instinctual need to walk a certain amount of miles a day to be psychologically healthy, but reptiles are much simpler."

Ian studied her for a moment. She could tell he was, by the way his gaze intensified and met her eyes and then roamed from her eyes to her forehead to her lips and her jaw and back. "You're very good at what you do," he said.

"What?"

"You are obviously extremely intelligent. You speak with conviction, and you are, ah, obviously passionate. It is easy to see why—why you have gotten to where you are."

Brooke raised an eyebrow. His words sounded like a backhanded complement. She bit her lip, nodded, and turned around. She walked out of her room. Ian followed behind her. When she reached the living room, she turned around so abruptly Ian almost ran into her.

"I have a bone to pick with you."

"What?" Ian sounded genuinely surprised about Brooke's sudden change in mood.

"Do you think I'm some sort of joke, or what I'm doing isn't a legitimate science?"

"Uh, excuse me?"

"What you just said now, and the little noise and face you made during my final goodbye to my students," Brooke said. "It's like you don't see my field or at least the work I'm doing is legitimate."

"What I said just now, I meant," Ian replied. "You're are an extremely intelligent woman, and no one should doubt your way to the top of your field." He paused. "Uh, however, the comment you made—the comment about the planet being 'saved'—"

"Oh _God_ please do not tell me you are someone who doesn't believe in climate change."

"Now, uh, I didn't say that," Ian replied. He was getting tense now, too.

Brooke realized his words before were purely complementary, but she was in an arguing mood, now, and not about to admit to her being wrong. Besides, she had wanted to speak with him about his displeasure of her comment about the planet. She half-wished it didn't come about like this, though. Damn her quick temper.

"In fact, uh, I didn't say anything. I made a sound."

"That sound said a lot."

"The planet doesn't need saving," Ian said. "It's been around for billions of years. We've barely been here for the blink of an eye, and—and yet we think our measly primate species could actively effect and "destroy our planet". I'm more worried about the human race—the human race destroying itself. If we were to, the planet would move on, new species would adapt. We'd very soon be forgotten."

"But we are here." In an effort to ease the tension, Brooke walked over to her kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. As she poured, she continued her argument. "We are here, over 5 billion of us, and we haven't killed off our species yet, but we are impacting the world and its other inhabitants. We are destroying our own species. If you don't believe in climate change, fine. But when I was speaking with my students, I was speaking about the degradation of wild places, and the mass extinction of animals that is not being caused by some behavioral or environmental change. We're causing it." She placed the glasses on the counter, pausing as she heard the sound of a train's whistle blowing only just beyond the trees that bordered her backyard. "There's no denying that."

She looked to Ian for a response, but his expression had gone blank. He was staring intently at the glasses on the counter. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Brooke followed his gaze down. The translucent golden liquid of the Pinot was rippling along the surface, lapping against the edge of the glass. Standing there, she could feel the ground shaking, just a little bit. The roar of the train—

The roar.

She stepped in front of the glasses to get Ian's attention. His head snapped up quickly, and Brooke could see the beads of sweat just forming on his forehead. _He must have some form of PTSD_, she thought. She had never dealt with the disorder, but she had to act quickly.

"It sucks sometimes, living so close to the _train_," she said, putting special emphasis on the explanation of the noise. "It gets all loud and shaky." She grabbed the glasses off the counter. "But the real estate was cheap. Come on, let's sit down on the couch." Ian looked at her, but didn't respond. She nudged him gently with her elbow to try to encourage him to pay attention to her.

"Don't—!" Ian said as he grabbed her forearm so quickly she dropped the glass she was holding. Brooke let out a yell of surprise and jumped back as the glass shattered. Little pricks of pain ran up her leg as shards shot up and scraped across her bare ankles. Ian released her arm, taking a step away from her. He blinked rapidly a few times, as if the world was coming back into focus.

Immediately, Brooke began cleaning up. A little shaken, but without a word she stepped around the crash site and grabbed her dustpan and brush from under the kitchen sink. She dropped to a crouch position and began to sweep the mess up around Ian's feet.

"I'm, I'm very sorry."

Brooke glanced up at Ian and shook her head. "It's okay, I understand." She swept the rest of the glass up, and then was handed a dishtowel by Ian. She wiped up the mess and then dumped the glass out and put the dishtowel in the sink. She turned back to Ian, but stayed where she was. She leaned her back against the sink, looked at him, and smiled feebly.

"It's not—it's not okay, Brooke," Ian said, still on the other side of the counter, watching her tentatively. "I never should have put my hand on you. Are you all right?"

"Ian I'm—" she paused and looked down at her legs as she felt a familiar warmth down her leg. "Well, I seem to be bleeding." She looked up at Ian, whose eyes had gone wide. He moved toward her quickly. "But it's nothing, I'm fine."

"Let me help you," he said.

"I don't need—oh, okay."

With one easy movement, Ian scooped Brooke up in a fireman's carry. She didn't need to jump or wrap her arms around him, he just picked her up like it was nothing. "Where should I take you to, uh, clean up?"

"Uhm, the bathroom, I guess." Brooke realized how silly she sounded, but being in his arms, held closely to his chest had muddled up her brain a little bit. He met her gaze, and she smiled at him, but he still looked worried. He turned his attention to the hallway, where he brought her and sat her gently on the edge of her bathtub. She rolled her shorts just slightly and turned on the water.

While she rinsed the small cuts off with water, she directed Ian where the hydrogen peroxide and bandages were. He apologized again, and Brooke told him to just "Hush."

"Honestly," she told him as she carefully dabbed the cuts with hydrogen peroxide. It stung, but she didn't flinch. "Look at them, they're so tiny. The blood made it seem far worse. I'm not even going to bandage them." She stopped and looked him right in the eye. "It's okay. I understand."

"Thank you. That will—it will never happen again."

Brooke dried off her leg and stepped out of the tub. She put herself in front of Ian and placed her hands on his chest. She looked up at him and stood on her tiptoes, planting a kiss gently on his lips. He kissed her back, surprisingly gentle. She turned her head down, and her fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. She watched his chest expand as she began to gently undo them. Ian's hands moved to the small of Brooke's back, and he watched her with intense curiosity. One stayed, while the other caressed her side. Brooke could not prevent a content sigh from escaping her lips, and her eyes closed for just a moment.

"This isn't what you think," she murmured.

"What is it?" he asked, his murmur barely audible as he dipped down and kissed her neck.

"This is…" She gently un-tucked his shirt and pushed it back, revealing his abdomen. The scars of his recent past were revealed. They were harsh and jagged, and they obviously ran deep. When she touched them, he flinched. She tried to keep her face as steady as possible, and tried to hide her shock. She bit her lip, studying them carefully. She traced her fingers along them. "Wow."

Ian took her hands in his own, and Brooke looked up and met his gaze. He moved forward and kissed her hard on the mouth. She took a deep breath through her nose and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her with ease up and onto the sink counter. He had one hand on her hip, and one running up and down her thigh. As his hand roamed up her thigh, he applied gentle pressure and slipped under the hem of her shorts. Brooke took a sharp intake of breath, and whimpered slightly. She could feel Ian smile through the kiss. She hooked her ankle around one of his legs.

A low growling sound came from his throat as he held her in place and pushed himself against her. Brooke leaned her head back and with her neck exposed, Ian went to town. He kissed, sucked, and bit her neck. Brooke whimpered again, and one of Ian's hands went to her butt. He lifted her up off the sink and carried her out of the bathroom. While he navigated, Brooke took her turn to run her hands over his chest and abdomen and kiss his neck and collar. He held her tight, and Brooke could feel (but didn't pay too much attention to) how his limp rocked his gait.

They were in the bedroom in moments, and suddenly Brooke was on her back in her bed. She pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side. Ian thrust up against her, and Brooke arched her back and squeezed his forearm. She kissed him hard, and he thrust again. She maneuvered herself so she was on top of him, straddling his waist. He pulled her shirt off, exposing her black lace bra. As she leaned over, she thrust up slowly and gently against the bulge in his jeans. He moaned and his fingers clawed down her back and Brooke kissed his neck.

Having more than enough with her teasing, Ian rolled over so Brooke was on the bottom and he was in control. He held her arms gently against the bed as he kissed her all over, starting at her bellybutton, moving up her stomach, her breasts, and her neck. As his lips moved up, his hand moved down to the edge of her shorts. Brooke gasped as—seemingly in one quick motion—he undid he button and zipper and slipped his hand down her pants and under her panties. She moaned and her hips bucked. He chuckle-growled in her ear.

"Slow?" he murmured to her. "You wanted to take it slow?"

Brooke paused, thoughts racing through her clouded mind. "Uhm…"

_**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**_ The oven went off.

Brooke's mind cleared, and she put her hand on Ian's chest. He sat up on his knees. She nodded her head and took a bit of shaky breath. "Slow," she murmured, running her fingers through her hair. Ian smirked and gently guided her up.

He kissed her on the forehead, and then looked her over. He raised his eyebrows as he caressed the curve of her side. He smiled, and met her eyes again. He kissed her lips gently and then murmured. "It's worth the wait."

_**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**_

Without putting her shirt back on, she got off the bed and walked out of her bedroom. Before heading over to the kitchen, she walked over to her back door and let Felicity in from the backyard. The dog came rushing in excitedly, knowing someone besides Brooke was there. The excited retriever headed right to the bedroom.

Brooke pulled the dinner out of the oven and placed it on the stovetop. She turned to the sink and ran the cold water. She took a paper towel, soaked it, and dabbed it around her chest, neck, forehead, and stomach.

"What are you doing?" Ian was leaning against the counter. His shirt was back on, but completely unbuttoned. Felicity sat next to him, her tail waving madly.

Brooke turned around and laughed nervously. "I, ahh…" she tossed the towel in the trash. "It's the closest I'm getting to a cold shower."

"Ooh a shower," Ian purred, revealing a smile. "I could go for one those."

"Down boy," Brooke replied. She motioned to the food cooling on the counter. "I just worked up an appetite."

"Dinner first," Ian agreed. He approached her and placed his hands on her hips. "And then after?" He kissed her gently.

Brooke's cheeks flushed. She pulled away, just slightly. Their noses were still touching when she met his gaze and murmured: "We'll see."


	10. Doubt

**Chapter 10**

* * *

They didn't talk about what Brooke referred to mentally as 'the Episode' for quite a while after that night. Brooke wanted to give Ian time and space to relax and possibly shake off whatever embarrassment he might be feeling—even though Ian didn't seem like the type to be plagued by embarrassment. He seemed too far above it all, in her opinion.

Their next few dates were sweet. They went to a few nice restaurants out East, a Tiki bar on the south shore, had a picnic in the park, and went back to the zoo to visit with Kelly and ate dinner on top of the largest rock in the elephant enclosure. By that time, the pachyderms were all in their inside enclosure, but the view at sunset was still beautiful.

Ian had been so great at "taking it slow". Though there had been some brief moments of explosive heat, they were always doused. Usually, it was by Ian, who insisted on not wanting to take Brooke farther than she wanted to go and then have her wake up with regret. Even so, after a few weeks Brooke could tell that he was getting restless. She felt bad, but she just wasn't sure she was ready to take that next step in their relationship yet. When she consulted her friends, the response was a unanimous eye-rolling.

"If you have to ask us if you should," Amy said smartly, "Then you shouldn't be doing anything."

"He isn't pressuring you, is he?" Michelle "Chelly" Darling was quick to jump down any man's throat. The past few years hadn't been good to her, and though they all knew she meant well, it seemed to her friends that Chelly wasn't exactly happy when her friends found themselves in relationships (unless of course, she was in a relationship too).

"Not at all," Brooke replied. "It's like I'm trying to pressure me into it. I want to, but I don't. I also don't want to lose him. I just feel like—"

"If he really likes you, sex shouldn't even matter." Chelly crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't like the sound of this Brooke. I mean, he's obviously a hound, he's a decade plus older than you, and _he has a daughter_. And you're obviously feeling pressure from him to have sex or else you wouldn't have brought it up. I think that you're projecting what this guy is pressuring you to do out to the world, but you're self-blaming and—"

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Brooke finally snapped, narrowing her eyes at her friend. "Just because you haven't gotten laid in a long time, and just because your last two boyfriends sucked, doesn't mean that you have to vomit all over everyone else's good time, or pretend that you are some relationship-psychologist-guru." Brooke took a breath, a little ashamed of her outburst but not necessarily apologetic. She looked to the group for support. Instead, she found averted eyes and worried glances.

Chelly slammed her soda bottle on the table. "I don't need this, especially from _you._ Good luck with whatever the hell you're trying to make into an actual relationship. Because you're _so good_ at those." As Brooke's mouth dropped agape, Chelly stood up from the table and stormed out of the food court at the mall.

"Are you going to go after her?" Amy asked.

"I don't think that would be the best idea right now," Brooke replied.

"I'm with you on that one," Jen agreed with a slight nod of her head. "She needs some time to cool down." She paused. "That was a low blow, Brooke."

"I know," Brooke said. "But you know how she's been the past few months—just plain nasty toward anyone who brings up a relationship. I know Jacob and Greg were assholes and that really sucks, but that doesn't mean every single man in the world is. I'm already insecure enough about this damn relationship, I don't need her dumping all over me."

"You two will have some talking to do," Amy reasoned. "Eventually. And hopefully, when she meets Ian, she'll see the side of him that you do, the side that does give you faith in the relationship."

"When are we going to meet Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, anyway?" Jen replied.

"This Saturday, actually," Brooke replied with a smile. "My parents are having a barbeque in Levittown, and of course all of you are invited. Ian's already agreed to come, and Kelly might come too."

"How will your family feel about your new boyfriend bringing his kid to the party?" Jen asked.

"I think they'll get over it," Brooke replied. "They were able to get over the whole dinosaur thing once I took a good couple of hours to explain it all to them."

"Good luck, my friend," Amy said with a shake of her head. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Brooke replied. She bit her lip and stared past her friend, gazing absentmindedly into the windows of the nearest shop in the mall. "Lord knows I'm going to need it."

x-x-x

Even with his limp, Ian didn't just walk, he _strut_. Not always, but usually, and it became very apparent when he was feeling especially confident, upset, or slightly nervous. Brooke first noticed this on one of their dinner dates, but it really stood out the night of the barbecue. She had picked him up from his ex's house. Though Ian had insisted she go in the house to wait while he talked to Kelly's babysitter. Brooke refused, and remained in her car.

There was something that didn't feel right about entering the house. Brooke felt like she would be breaking some code, some unwritten law among women. She didn't know what kind of relationship Ian had with his ex because he didn't talk about her much. Even so, Brooke almost felt like a mistress. She knew she wasn't, and she knew it was slightly irrational. Even more so, it was a complicated feeling to portray, so she would just tell Ian "It doesn't feel right."

In her own mind, Brooke reasoned that it had something to do with Kelly. The child complicated things. If she were to step into Ian's ex's house, she felt she would be crossing a line, invading territory. She didn't want to do that, so she and Felicity said hello to Kelly on the front stoop, and then went back to the car.

Drumming her fingers along on the wheel to _Runnin' With the Devil_, her gaze shifted back and forth from the house, to the street, to the neighboring properties. She zoned out a little, running over her theories of why elephants were prone to certain diseases and why their cognitive structure was so similar, yet so different to a human adult. For years, the only animals hypothesized to have human-like intelligence were our human-like "cousins": chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans, and even some higher monkey species. The evolution of elephant and dolphin large reptile cognition was a strange concept to most, but it was one of Brooke's key interests.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the front door fly open. Felicity barked in the back seat in excitement. Ian appeared, dressed in black as usual. Jeans, shoes, belt, button-up, even the rims of his glasses were all black. Brooke shook her head lightly, a small, nervous smile creeping onto her lips. Ian looked past the car for a moment, then caught her gaze. A smile spread across his lips and Brooke's heart skipped a beat. He had an award-winning, heart-breaking smile.

His shoulders were cocked back slightly, his chest broadening. His cane was held loosely in one hand, not touching the ground. His chin was up as he took his first steps down the stoop, looking proud as ever. His stride was huge, and he made it to the car in only a few steps. But in those moments, Brooke noticed something she found very interesting. When he strut, with his shoulders cocked and his chest broad, he looked like he was bracing himself for impact. He walked with such confidence it made her believe if a car ran right into him, it would be deflected. He was bracing himself for something, outwardly showing his pride, so as not to be easily attacked. It was a similar strut to what some male leaders in the animal kingdom did to protect their territory or impress prospective mates. Brooke's mind worked quickly, sorting out his behavior.

"Are you nervous to meet my family?" she asked him as he slid into the car. He leaned over the center console and planted a kiss on her lips.

"Nervous?" he asked with a raise of his brow and a smirk forming on his lips. "I've, uh, faced Tyrannosaurus, people—people don't scare me."

Though she didn't say it, Brooke thought could tell he was bluffing by the way he adjusted his seatbelt, played with the buttons on his shirt, and ran both hands through his hair.

"I'm nervous," she admitted, glancing over as she pulled out of the driveway. Ian looked at her with mild surprise.

"And why is that?" Once they were out of the driveway, he took her hand very gently off the steering wheel, gave a little squeeze, and held it in his own. He kissed the back of her hand. "You're not ashamed of me, are you?"

Brooke could hear that he was joking, but she still shook her head fervently. "No," she said. "Of course not. I've just been having a few…issues with certain friends that are going to be in attendance tonight. My friend, Michelle, blatantly disagrees with my relationship choices."

"Oh, I see."

"No, I'm making it sound worse than it is," Brooke glanced over at Ian at a stop sign and tried to smile reassuringly. "She hasn't had the best luck with guys, so she automatically assumes all men are scum. And then there's Jen, who is in the math world, so she knows your public dating history—which I don't care about at all—so Michelle is all over that. I know I shouldn't be nervous, though, you'll blow them all away."

"Pull over," Ian said gently. Brooke obliged, her heart racing.

_Pull over_? What did that mean? Was he going to get out of the car and leave her then and there? Was he going to tell her he wasn't ready to meet her family and friends? Did he not want to?

"Stop." The softness in Ian's voice invaded her thoughts and cleared her mind. Brooke parked the car looked at him to see him smirking just slightly. "You're overthinking. I can see—see the gears in your brain, uh, turning. Look at me."

Despite the blood rushing to her cheeks, Brooke met his eyes. "Relax," he told her. "We're going to be fine." He kissed her gently on the lips, and pulled away only slightly so their noses were inches apart and Brooke had no excuse but to meet Ian's gaze. He gently slid his hand to her upper arm, wrapping his fingers around her bicep and caressing her skin gently with his thumb. "I can't promise your friends will love me, but I don't care about that." The volume of his voice dropped. "I care about you. I-I'll do my best to show just how much tonight so that all of the doubt that's swirling around in their heads and yours will be gone." He waved his free hand gently as if dispelling a pesky flying insect. "We'll be fine." And he kissed her again.

In that moment, Brooke's heart swelled and she kissed him back with fervor. Weight seemed to wash off her shoulders as they parted. She took his hand in hers and held it tightly. They were going to be all right.


	11. Barbecue

**Chapter 11**

* * *

When the DiAngelos had a party, they _had a party_ and they invited just about everybody they knew. Brooke wasn't surprised to see the block so filled with cars she had to park halfway down the street. As she, Ian, and Felicity walked down the block toward the corner house, Brooke pointed out things from her childhood. She showed him her first best friend's house, where the best hiding spots were for hide-and-seek, and where she got her first kiss in the 12th grade.

"Funny, I can't imagine you being a, uh, late bloomer," Ian remarked. He wrapped his arm around her waist and slipped his hand into the front pocket of her jean shorts.

"I was 16 in the 12th grade," Brooke replied, leaning her head on his upper arm. "I don't think that's too late." She looked up at him. Ian chuckle-growled and kissed her forehead.

"Should we have brought more than alcohol?" he asked her.

"A little liquor goes a long way in the DiAngelo household," Brooke replied, holding up the large bottle of White Zinfandel in her left hand so Ian could "cheers" with his bottle of Jack Daniels.

Another chuckle-growl from Ian. "I think I'm going to enjoy your family."

"I think they're going to enjoy you too."

As soon as they walked into the backyard, Felicity ran to meet Brooke's parents' Golden, Sammy, and Brooke's brother Danny's St. Bernard, Bear. From around the bend, Brooke heard: "Felicity! Where's your mother?"

Brooke's own mother, Ann, appeared and stopped abruptly. She sized Ian up and down obviously and smiled. "Dr. Malcolm, good to see you again." She meant it. Ian unwrapped his arm from around Brooke's waist and clasped her hand instead. With his free hand, he shook Ann's and commented on how "lovely she looked in her sundress" and "how _obvious_ it was where Brooke got all her good looks from". Brooke blushed and squeezed his hand. She could see her mother had already made her judgments, and Ian and passed well. The next would be her father.

Luckily, Jim approved of his daughter's choice. Although he was a little hesitant about Ian's age and the whole "island of the dinosaurs" thing, he enjoyed the fact that Brooke had found a strong, intelligent person.

"A little too sure of himself," Jim told his daughter. "But not too bad."

Not too bad. Wasn't great, but it was more approval than most received.

As for Ian's behavior, he was absolutely fantastic. He was charming, attentive, and didn't really leave Brooke's side. There were some points where his conversation or his humor went over some heads, but no one really seemed to care too much.

Jen and Amy seemed very impressed with Ian. Though they were extremely skeptical at first, it only took a few charming smiles and chuckle-growls to get him into their favor. Brooke watched her friends' responses carefully. She couldn't tell exactly how they were feeling, but any feelings certainly didn't seem ill toward him. They laughed at his jokes, and told embarrassing stories about Brooke from her teenage years. He told them about how it took a few hours, but his 7 year-old daughter taught Brooke how to do a cartwheel. She told them that Ian was apparently a very skilled pianist, able to pick out mistakes within a sixteenth of a note, but refused to play anything for her. They toasted to Africa and to elephants. The four of them were having a great time.

It was Michelle that was having a few issues. Though she did warm up slightly to Ian, she didn't thaw out, and still behaved quite coldly. Brooke watched her friend's hard gaze follow Ian whenever he moved more than a couple of feet from her side. She could tell Michelle was scrutinizing his every move, especially if any move involved the female members Brooke's family or any female friends. For the most part, Brooke, Amy, and Jen rolled their eyes as soon as Ian returned to Brooke's side.

They were feeding off each other. Brooke gained confidence as Ian became more open and welcomed by the family and friends, and Ian became his regularly overly-confident self with each person Brooke introduced him to. They were able to move away from each other and mingle, but they would always find their way back to each other. Ian would go grab drinks and get caught up talking to aunts and uncles while Brooke helped her mother serve food to or clean up after guests. But eventually they would meet back and hang out or sneak inside for a quick kiss.

The night rolled on, and Brooke couldn't stop a feeling from turning her stomach and making her heart swell to three times the size. _God I think I love him_, she thought as he strut toward her. That smile, the way the corner of his eyes crinkled. She winked at him as she past him by. He returned the gesture and took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze as he went by. She turned as he walked away and watched him walk pointedly over to a friend of her sister-in-law. A spur of jealously stung her in the side, and she shook her head. _Stop that,_ she told herself, smiling ruefully. _You do not. You just _want_ him._

A few minutes after the exchange, after Brooke finished replenishing the supply of booze at the outdoor bar, she returned to her friends, who were chatting quietly by the garden in the corner of the yard. Michelle had her arms crossed in front of her chest with some satisfied smirk on her face. Brooke's heart rose to her throat. That smirk couldn't mean anything good.

"What's going on?" Brooke asked with a forced smile. She looked directly at Michelle. "Why do you look so proud of yourself?"

Michelle put her hands up in defense, with that sly smirk still on her lips. "I don't want to say 'I told you so' but…" And she motioned behind Brooke. Brooke turned and nearly dropped the glass she was holding.

On the far side of the yard, partially in shadow, were Ian and the friend of Brooke's sister-in-law (whose name escaped Brooke, the young woman was in the wedding, but other than knowing that, Brooke was at a loss). Ian was inclined forward, one hand resting on the fence. Rachael's friend was obviously all a-twitter, Brooke could see the head-tilting and the ridiculous eyebrow batting from all the way across the yard. Ian said something with a smirk, and the friend tilted her head back and laughed. Ian placed a hand on her shoulder, and then took the woman's necklace in his fingers and held it toward him. It looked like he was inspecting it, but the woman also leaned in just so and put her hand on his arm. She said something, and Ian chuckled. A few of the guests looked over to the exchange, and Brooke noticed heads turning to see her response.

Brooke's blood boiled and she wanted to scream, but for the sake of not getting upset in front of oh-so-proud-of-herself Michelle and not wanting to cause a scene in front of family, she shook her head as she turned back to her friends.

"He's such a jackass," she said with a wave of her hand, trying to appear careless. "He must have seen me admiring the tattoo on Keith's friend from work's arm and gotten a little jealous. Probably trying to get me back." She took a big gulp of her wine and shook her head. "I don't play those games."

She glanced back at Ian and the Rachael's friend, who was now getting an up-close-and-personal introduction to Chaos Theory. Yes, he was showing her the water-off-the-hand routine. Brooke felt trapped. She wanted to run; she needed to get out of there. But she didn't want to make a scene, and she felt like she was going to explode. Leaving, going inside, or removing herself from the situation in any way would be obvious. She was stuck. She looked back to her friends with a smile and a shake of her head, but she was sure her eyes betrayed her.

"Oh, I was going to tell you," Jen said suddenly. "I think Felicity needs to go for a walk, she was hanging out around the gate before." Brooke turned to look for her dog, who was sleeping under one of the tables. She scanned the backyard, and saw Bear laying down by the gate.

"Did she say Felicity?" Amy asked, following Brooke's gaze. "She meant Bear."

"Right, I meant Bear," Jen corrected. "I think she needs to go for a walk."

"Me too," Brooke replied, her voice just barely above a murmur. "I'll go grab her leash."

Brooke set her shoulders back and walked into the house. As she went, she smiled at guests and made small talk. But as soon as she was in the house, she almost broke. She nearly sprinted to grab Bear's leash and was outside in a flash. She nearly ran into Ian when she turned from the door. He caught her, placing both hands on her upper arm. He smiled down at her but she couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm taking Bear for a quick walk so she doesn't have an accident in the backyard and someone steps in it," she said as calmly as she could. She looked up and narrowed her eyes, still not completely meeting his gaze. "I'm sure you'll be fine for a few minutes?" Her own gaze shifted to just past him, where Rachael's friend was chatting with Brooke's sister-in-law and brother. Rachael did not look happy with her friend. Ian turned to follow where Brooke was looking, and Brooke took that moment to walk away.

Ian caught up to her while she was leashing Bear. He put a hand on her upper arm, which she shrugged off. "Brooke, uh, I'm sensing some hostility here…what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Brooke snapped as she walked out of the backyard.

"Really? It uh, doesn't seem at all like 'nothing', but that's just my observation, of course." Brooke continued to walk away, and Ian followed. "Brooke, I'm trying to be serious here. What is wrong?"

"What were you doing with Rachael's friend? The woman you were just talking to?"

"Margaret?"

"If that is the name of the woman who you were blatantly flirting with in front of my family and friends, then yes, her."

"Flirting? We were just talking."

Brooke turned to him. "You used nearly every move on her that you used on me. You flirted." She paused and took a breath. "And if that's just who you are, that's fine, I understand. I said I wasn't going to try and change you. If this is some sort of game, I'm _not playing._ I don't play games. Whatever it is I'm not mad, I'm just embarrassed. My family, my friends, they're going to look at me like I'm a fool. Michelle—you should have seen the look on her face."

Ian took her hand and squeezed it. He lifted her chin gently so their eyes locked. "Look, Brooke, if I, uh, offended or—or embarrassed you in any way, look, I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention. I had a question for a, uh, well a woman of sorts, and I was told she was my best bet."

"What kind of 'woman of sorts'?" Brooke asked with a raised eyebrow. She pulled her hand away from his and placed them on her hips. She was both exasperated and relieved. She could tell he wasn't lying by the way he looked when she pulled her hand away. He was getting nervous, but not in a "you caught me with my hand in the cookie jar" kind of way, more of the "oh my God I need to fix what I messed up" way.

"Apparently, Margaret is big in the uh…" he trailed off, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. He ran his fingers through his hair, then rested his hand on the back of his neck. "Well, in the fashion industry. I told you I don't give a shit about fashion, but I was, uh, shopping for clothes for camp with Kelly, and I saw something, and I wasn't sure if it was right or, uh, if you'd like it. I wanted an opinion from someone who was in the field."

Brooke tilted her head to the side just slightly. Pressure in her chest dissipated as she took a few breaths and nodded. "Then what was all this—?" she mimicked Margaret's flirtatious attitude; the giggle, the eyelashes, the leaning in, and the touches.

"Ah, that seems, well…okay, I suppose I lack a little self control sometimes. But like you said, that's—well that's 'just who I am'. Regardless—of course I apologize for that behavior."

Brooke took his hand in her own and squeezed it. "It's okay," she told him, a small smile appearing on her lips. She pulled him closer to her and he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Her heart raced and for the second time tonight a great weight was lifted off her shoulders.

"Are we okay?" he murmured to her, caressing her cheek.

Brooke nodded and smiled. "We're okay." She kissed him again on the lips and then started back for the gate with Bear. Ian wrapped his arm around her waist and held her tightly beside him. When they returned to the yard, they received some doubtful glances but Brooke ignored them. She looked up at Ian and he smiled reassuringly down at her.

For the rest of the night, Ian wasn't that far from Brooke's side. Although she told him multiple times that she trusted him and he could do his own thing, he didn't stray. He held Brooke's hand and took a special interest in holding her extra close to him when they were in Michelle's view. When Margaret passed by, Brooke introduced herself, and made a bit of conversation with her sister-in-law's friend about jewelry, and was able to walk away feeling confident.

By the time the barbecue came to an end, Brooke's mind was only on one thing. She rushed Ian through farewells, and made a point to get to the car as fast as possible. Felicity jumped into the back seat, but before Ian could fix the front seat for himself, Brooke slipped her fingers behind his belt and pulled him toward her.

Ian's hands went to her sides when she kissed him, and Brooke wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed herself against him and he chuckle-growled through their kiss. His hands moved lower to her hips and then around to her butt. In a smooth motion he lifted Brooke up onto the hood of her car.

"When do you have the sitter until?" Brooke murmured, looking up at Ian with the most seductive expression she could muster. Ian's eyebrows rose.

"I'm sure I could arrange for something overnight with a neighbor…" he replied. A small smile appeared on his lips. "Why?"

"Do you want to come over tonight?" Brooke asked. She traced circles and spirals on his chest, her fingers slowly working their way down. She looked back up at him when they reached the top of his jeans and held his gaze for a moment before adding: "And stay over?"


	12. Ecstasy

**Chapter 12**

* * *

"Amy, I'm freaking out."

"Why? What's wrong? What happened?" Brooke could tell that she woke her friend up.

"Ian and I are going to _do it_," Brooke told her friend excitedly.

"Then why are you on the phone with me?"

"Because he had to run to go take care of Kelly and make sure that she could stay with a neighbor and then he had to go and get condoms because neither of us were prepared for this but he called from the house and he says he's going to be thirty minutes. I went for a run, I showered, shaved, lotion-ed, blow-dried my hair, and now I don't know what to do or what to wear."

"You need to simmer down there, girly," Amy replied groggily. "Why are you freaking out? It's not like this is your first time."

"I know that," Brooke replied hastily. "But it's different with Ian."

"Don't you have that lingerie that we bought you as a gag gift for your 25th?"

"Yes, but isn't that a bit much?"

"Put something over it, then," Amy advised. "Wear a loose cardigan or one of your long sleeved button-ups—something he can unbutton—and your shortest shorts. That way it's not anything out of the ordinary for you, until he unbuttons and then there's a…_nice surprise_."

Brooke couldn't help but laugh. "Okay," she said. "Thanks."

"Brooke, relax, it's just sex," Amy warned. "You've done this before."

"I don't think I have…" Brooke realized.

"What? Brooke that doesn't make sense."

"I _really_ care about him, Amy. I can't remember the last time I've had meaningful sex. This isn't just sex."

"Wow, Brooke…I don't even know what to say except chill out and good luck! I expect details tomorrow."

"Thanks—you'll get a play-by-play."

"Breathe, girl."

"I'll try."

"All right…have a _fantastic_ evening."

Brooke hung up the phone and followed Amy's advice by taking a few deep breaths. She walked into her bedroom and with shaky hands put on the lingerie that she had stuffed way in the back of underwear drawer. When she had received it as a gag gift, she intended to throw it out or try to return it. She had left it on her counter to remind her to bring it back to the mall, but when her parents paid a surprise visit, she stashed it in her drawer and just let it be.

It was very simple, and Brooke took a moment to thank her friends silently for not going crazy with the gag gift. It was a scarlet-colored silk corset with black vertical piping and lace hems. It tied down the front and was tied in a bow that hung right at the panty line. The panties were thin, black mesh with one little scarlet bow sewn to the front. Admittedly, it was a little uncomfortable, but after one look at herself in the mirror, Brooke couldn't care less.

She donned her shortest pair of jean shorts, which were only about four inches above the knee. To disguise the dark color of the corset, she wore one of her loose button-up collared blouses in navy blue. After she was dressed, she made and straightened her bed and put covers over the front of the reptile tanks.

After the bedroom was prepared, Brooke straightened up the living room and the kitchen. She pulled two glasses from the cupboard and made sure there was ice in the tray and wine in the refrigerator. To help calm her nerves, she turned on the radio. She smiled as she caught the tail end of one of Billy Joel's newest tracks: _All About Soul_. A typical Long Islander, she had been listening to Joel since she was in the womb. There was something about his music that was so familiar, it had the ability to calm her down right away.

Brooke startled when she heard her car rumble up the driveway. Because she had picked Ian up from his house before the barbecue, he had to use the Jeep to get to and from Oyster Bay. She lowered the music and walked to the kitchen. As she was pouring the wine there was a knock on the door. Her heart skipped a couple of beats and she almost spilled the wine.

"Ian?" she called.

"It's me," he replied.

"Come on in."

Ian opened the door and Brooke did her best to 'saunter' out of the kitchen with the wine in hand. When she saw him she gave him a small, shy smile and offered him a glass of wine. He accepted it and said: "You changed."

"I did," she replied with a slight nod. As she took a sip he put a hand on her waist and pulled her toward him. He caressed her side and gave her a quizzical look when he felt the fabric of her corset under her shirt. She took his hand and slid it onto her hip and smiled at him.

She took his hand and pulled him into the living room. She closed the front door and locked it, let Felicity say hello to Ian and then put her in her office to stay for the night. While still facing away from Ian, she unbuttoned her shirt just a little. She took a few sips of wine and put her wine on the counter and turned and looked at Ian. He chuckle-growled and walked over to her. He put his glass down too and looked down at her and very gently took the fabric of her collar between his fingers. Brooke's hands went to his side and she very gently untucked his shirt from jeans.

Ian used his thumb to gently lift Brooke's chin so she met his gaze. He removed his glasses, put them on the counter behind her and then dipped down and kissed her hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his arms went around her waist. She ran her fingers through his curls and put one hand on his chest and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. His hands slid down to her waist around to her butt and lifted her up. She locked her legs around tightly around his waist and pressed her body against his.

He moved her over to the couch and set her down beneath him. It was a little awkward because he was so tall and broad and she certainly wasn't the smallest of women, but they made it work. He ran his hand up her shirt and stopped, pulling away slightly. Brooke smiled sheepishly as he lifted the shirt up and saw the scarlet fabric of the corset.

"You're kidding me," he said with an expression of complete disbelief.

Brooke's heart stopped. "Is it too much? I thought—" Ian kissed her gently, then pulled away. Very slowly, one by one, he unbuttoned her shirt to reveal the corset. He pulled her shirt off her shoulders and placed his hands on her waist.

"Is it okay?" Brooke asked. Ian smiled so big it nearly lit up the room. He chuckle-growled and kissed her neck. Her hips bucked as he traced his lips from her neck to her chest and to the hem of her corset. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders and threw it across the room. Ian scooped Brooke up in a fireman's carry and kissed her on the lips. Brooke moved to kissing his neck as he carried her to the bedroom.

He placed her down on the edge of the bed, and while he kissed her Brooke felt for his belt buckle. She undid it and pulled it off slowly, dropping it off the side. He took her side and slid her back on the bed, climbing on top of her. He thrust against her and she let out the lightest of whimpers. He kissed her neck and she undid the buttons of his jeans.

"Not yet," he murmured, running his hands over her arms and down to her wrists. He very gently guided them over her head and held her wrists down against the bed with one hand while the other ran down the side of her body. As he kissed her lips, her jaw, her neck, he undid the button and zipper to her jeans, and then slid his hand over her crotch. Her hips bucked again at his touch and she kissed him harder, resisting the pressure he applied to her wrists. He tugged off her shorts and smiled.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured in her ear, then drew back to admire the lingerie. Brooke broke free of his grip and sat up to meet him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

Brooke pulled away from the kiss and pushed Ian gently away from her and backed up on the bed. He reached out for her, but she shook her head with a mischievous smile. With hands shaking slightly, she pulled one of ties at the bottom of her corset. His eyes widened and he moved for her but she put her hand out.

"Not yet," she teased. She backed off her bed and stood facing him. He stood up at the end of the bed, obviously a little confused. Brooke bit her lip and moved toward him. With every step, she loosened her corset. It dropped to floor just as she moved behind Ian. She ran her hands from his lower back around to his front and slid them down to his pant lines. Ian's hands went to her forearms, caressing them slightly. Brooke kissed his back muscles as they tensed when she slid her thumb under his belt line and under his underwear. She tugged a little, and then pulled them down to his ankles. As she stood back up, tracing her fingers from his butt to his shoulder blades, he stepped out of his pants. She circled around to the front, looked him up and down and (hiding her shocked expression at his _assets_) smiled up at him.

"You are like a god," she told him, her fingers tracing down his chest.

Ian chuckle growled and pushed Brooke back against the bed. As they moved back toward the pillows, he removed her panties. Without a warning his slipped a finger into her. She tossed her head back and moaned, arching her back. He kissed her neck and cupped a breast.

"I can't believe that's just your finger," she said stupidly, her mind clouded.

"Just you wait," Ian purred.

Brooke whimpered and dug her fingers into his back. As he 'worked' Ian murmured sweet nothings into her ear. Her heart seemed to soar at his words and her body felt like a low-pulse electric shocks were running through her veins.

"Are you ready?" Ian asked as his lips moved from her breasts up her chest and to her neck just under her ear. Brooke nodded her head and whimpered as he removed his finger.

_Pure ecstasy. _Brooke was no virgin, but she had never experienced sex like this. Ian knew every button to press and when to press them. He knew just what to say and how to say it, and in his arms Brooke felt like she was in the safest place in the world.

"Oh _Ian_," she moaned for the third time that night. As Ian moved next to her, he cradled the back of her neck and kissed her gently on the forehead, the nose, and the lips.

Panting and sweating, the two lay back for only a moment in bed. "Shower?" Brooke suggested as she wiped a bead of sweat away from Ian's brow.

"Just a shower?" Ian clarified.

"Just a shower."

The two showered together in cool water. Both completely satisfied and thoroughly exhausted, the shower was brief, but meaningful. Not completely toweled off they collapsed in Brooke's bed. She crawled up next to him and he wrapped his arms around her and held him tightly to her.

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be," she told him as her eyelids became heavy and closed. "I feel so safe."

He squeezed her gently and kissed the top of her head. "You are amazing," he murmured. Brooke began to fade in and out of consciousness as her body longed for rest. She kissed his bicep gently, and held him tight. Before slipping into slumber, she heard him murmur: "I…I'm not, uh, letting you go anytime soon."

A few hours later, when the sun was still below the horizon and her room was still cloaked in darkness, Brooke's eyes fluttered open. She looked around and smiled to herself as she felt the warmth of Ian's body tangled with hers. She gently untangled herself and crawled out of bed. Ian moaned in his sleep and Brooke stopped, looking back at him.

While washing her hands after using the bathroom, Brooke heard Ian call: "Brooke?!" in quite the distressed tone. Brooke didn't dry her hands, she just bolted into her bedroom.

"Ian, are you—"

"Where were you?" Even in the dark, she could see this intense, wild look in his eye. It reminded her of when the train had spooked him.

_PTSD_, she reminded herself. _Be cool._

"I was just in the other room," she told him as she crawled into her bed. She kneeled next to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She met his gaze, trying to get him to relax. Just by the look in his eyes she could tell he wasn't completely out of slumber.

"You didn't leave me?"

"No, Ian." Brooke kissed him, and his arms wrapped around her tightly. "I won't leave you."

"Good…good." Ian kissed her and pulled her down gently beside him. Brooke moved her hands to his chest and his waist, and allowed him to envelope her tightly to him. She caressed his side gently when he kissed her forehead and began to murmur a gentle tune as he rested his head in the pillow.

"I won't let you go…" he murmured to her, just before he drifted off.

"I'm not going anywhere," she told him, kissing his neck gently.

In Ian's arms she felt the safest she had ever been. But on dark nights such as these, Brooke realized it was Ian who so desperately needed security.


	13. Holy Day

**Chapter 13**

* * *

Before she opened her eyes, Brooke smiled. Ian caressed her side gently and kissed her neck. "Your phone has been ringing for the past few minutes," he murmured in her ear. She rolled over and looked at him. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "I think I heard your mother on the answering machine."

"Oh God it's Sunday isn't?"

"Yes, why?"

"Church." Brooke said. She kissed his lips gently and unwrapped herself from his arms.

"Church?" he asked, a little alarmed.

Brooke winked at Ian over her shoulder and walked out of the room. She let Felicity out of the office and out into the backyard to relieve herself. When Brooke saw the time, she quickened her pace. The phone rang just as she picked it up and she answered after the second tone.

"Hello?"

"Brooke, are you coming to church this morning?" Ann DiAngelo paused. "You've got an hour to leave your house to get here on time and you sound like you just got out of bed.

"What? I did."

"It's the pancake breakfast, you promised you would come, the family's coming."

"Oh, right."

"Did Ian stay over last night?"

"Mother!"

"Did he?"

"That's none of your business whether he did or did not."

"Well, if he did, take him to Church."

Brooke sighed in annoyance. "I don't think he even does the whole Church thing."

"Brooke Claire-Ann DiAngelo. You're not dating a Christian?"

"No, mom, I'm dating a Chaotitician." Ian appeared in the doorway of Brooke's bedroom with a sheet wrapped around his waist. He raised his eyebrows with slight concern. Brooke turned away from him nervously.

"He can't be both?"

"Mom, I don't want to deal with this right now," Brooke snapped.

"Okay, okay," Ann replied. "I'll see you in an hour. And if he knows what's good for him, I'll see him too."

"Mother—"

Ann hung up on the line. Brooke tilted her head back and let out another exasperated sigh. She shook her head slightly and ran her fingers through her hair. "I have to get ready."

"Did I hear something about, uh, Church?" Ian asked.

"My mom asked me to ask you to come to Church, that's if you stayed over last night which I didn't tell her definitively if you didn't or not. I swear she just _knows_ these things…"

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Well you can't expect me to go," he told her blatantly.

"It would mean a lot if you did, but I understand if you don't," Brooke replied with a nod as she walked by him to get to the bathroom. "Either way, I have to get ready because you either stay here until I get back, come with me, or I have to drive you back to Oyster Bay and then to Levittown and that's just going to take a whole lot longer…"

"I don't have anything to wear," Ian replied stubbornly.

"If you did, would you go?" Brooke started the shower.

"You're telling me—telling me you actually believe in all that crap?"

"It's how I was raised." She walked out of the bathroom and started collecting his clothing from the floor. She brought it over to her washer and threw it in on a light cycle.

"Well I—I was raised Jewish but you wouldn't catch me in a temple."

Brooke shook her head put the clothes on a 10-minute rinse cycle. "I don't want to talk about this. You don't have to come."

"Good."

"Good. I'm taking a shower, take your clothes out in 10 and toss them in the dryer on high for 30 minutes."

Brooke turned and walked away from him and into the shower. As she rushed through washing her hair and scrubbing her body, Ian poked his head behind the curtain.

"I never pictured you as a Church go-er," he said, an amused smile playing the corners of his mouth as he looked her up and down. "May I join you?"

"Every Sunday since I was 18," Brooke replied as she made room for Ian to join her. She moved out of the way so he could catch the running water and wash his hair. "And Sunday school every single Sunday of my childhood. I stopped going after I was confirmed when I was 12 or 13, but when I was in college, I just needed something to keep me sane through the stress. Now I just go because it makes my mother happy."

"Do you believe in all those tales?" Ian asked as he tilted his head back to let the water run over his face.

"Do I think they actually occurred?" Brooke replied. "Maybe some of them did. But men wrote the Bible, and men like to exaggerate, and men often make mistakes. I take them with a grain of salt—more like fables that are supposed to teach you a lesson. Not that the world was only "created" 6,000 years ago and that evolution is a devil's theory. In my line of work how is that even possible?"

"That's what I was wondering," Ian replied. "Will it kill you to miss one Sunday?" He took Brooke's hand and pulled her under the shower with him.

"My mother will kill me if I miss _this_ Sunday," Brooke told him. "It's this pancake breakfast thing. My brothers never go to Church, and it really bothers my mom. But they know that their asses better be in the pews for certain occasions like Christmas, Easter, and Mother's Day, and very occasionally on these pancake breakfasts. We planned this about a month ago. It's so rare to get the family and the girlfriends to go to Church all on the same day. It is important that I'm there."

"Do—did all your other boyfriend's put up a fight to go?" Ian asked as he kissed her neck and collarbone gently. Brooke's eyes closed in content for a moment. Remembering her time limit she shook her head and pulled away.

"In the past 5 years I have not had a boyfriend that I wanted to come with me," she told him truthfully. "Either I just wasn't dating anyone in the States or I wasn't dating anyone I'd bring home to Mom and Dad."

Ian didn't respond, but nodded just slightly. Brooke washed the last of the conditioner out of her hair and then left Ian to his own devices in the shower. Before getting dressed she tossed Ian's clothes into the dryer and put it on the 30 minute cycle. She looked at the clock and sighed, she was going to be cutting it close.

Since she didn't really have any nice clothes, everyone at church was used to her casual dress. However since it was a "special occasion" for the DiAngelo family, Brooke pulled the yellow dress she had worn on her date with Ian to the jazz-themed restaurant. It was a little fancy, so she downplayed it with a white cardigan and white sandals instead of a pair of heels.

As Brooke walked into the bathroom to blow-dry her hair, Ian stepped out of the shower.

"You look lovely," he told her with a small smile. "Do you always wear your Sunday best to Church?"

"No, usually I just dress in my plain old fashion, but since this is the pancake breakfast thing I decided that I could look a little nice."

Ian nodded and went to check on his clothes. Brooke dried her hair and pulled it back into a braid. No makeup, but just a touch of perfume. When she walked out of the bathroom, Ian was pulling his clothes out of the drier.

"Give those to me," Brooke told him. "I'm not the best ironer in the world but I'll make it look decent."

"No one important is going to see me," Ian replied. "Let's go so you're not late."

"I'm dropping you off?" Brooke replied as she let Felicity in the house. She tried to hide her disappointment.

"Yeah, I think it's best for everyone in this situation. Hey—don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Brooke replied, raising an eyebrow and pretending to be offended. "Honestly, it's better you go home than make it a miserable time."

"Hey—"

Before Ian could get a word in, the phone rang. Brooke picked it up and raised her eyebrow as she said hello.

"Hey what are you doing after Church?"

"Keith?" Brooke replied. "Uh, nothing that I'm aware of why?"

"Is that guy coming with you to Church?"

Brooke laughed harshly. "Nope."

"All right, want to come to the Subway Series with Sam and I? Dan and Tracy backed out last second."

"That'd be awesome!"

"What about your boyfriend?"

"Not his thing," Brooke replied without even considering asking. Ian raised his eyebrows but Brooke turned away from him. "I'll ask Jen or somebody to come at church. See you in a bit."

"Bye."

Brooke hung up the phone and announced she had to grab a change of clothes. "Why?" Ian asked. "What's, uh, going on? You seem to be quite popular this morning."

"I'm going to a Mets-Yankees game after Church with my brother and his girlfriend," Brooke replied. She grabbed her (slightly outdated) Keith Hernandez jersey and a pair of jean shorts from the closet and a pair of socks from her drawer.

"You like baseball?" Ian asked. "How can you enjoy organized sports where—where the players are paid absurd amounts of money to hit—hit a little ball with what—a club and run around a—"

"I can't win with you today, can I?" Brooke snapped irritably. "Church, baseball…I'm sorry to disappoint you." She grabbed her sneakers from beside the door and her keys from the hook. "Let's go."

The car ride was quiet. Brooke turned on her favorite radio station and set the volume so it was just a little too loud to talk. Ian placed his hand on her thigh, but she ignored it. This was certainly not how she pictured the morning after the most amazing lovemaking of her life. But now that she felt insulted, she was content to fester in her anger. She glanced at him every so often, and once he caught her glance. She looked away quickly and let out an agitated sigh.

Part of her hoped (and kind of expected) Ian would decide to come with her to church with her family. But when they pulled up to the curb in front of his ex wife's house and Kelly came rushing to meet them, he got out of the car without a word. Brooke got out too to say hello to Kelly, whom she enveloped in a tight embrace.

"Well, I guess you should be going," Ian said quite abruptly.

"Daddy that's rude!" Kelly said, gripping Brooke's hand tightly.

"Brooke has to get to church, that's all," he replied.

"Your Daddy's right," Brooke replied with a nod. She gave Kelly a big kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you soon kiddo." She stood up and went to walk back to driver's side.

"Hey." Ian grabbed her hand and spun her around. "I'll, uh, call you later?"

"Sounds good—I'll talk to you soon."

Brooke sat down in her car and shook her head. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that told her that "later" wouldn't be as "soon" as thought.


	14. The Break

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Two weeks had passed by since Brooke had last seen Ian. Since the end of the school year, her schedule was not as packed as it once was, so the days dragged on. When she wasn't at the zoo or contributing data to her paper, she tried desperately to keep herself busy. She went to the beach, she went hiking, she saw a few movies. She isolated herself. She couldn't talk to her friends, because she could just imagine the self-righteous, smug look on Michelle's face, and she didn't want to deal with the sympathy of Amy and Jen and Toni. She couldn't go to her family (in fact, she kept the details quiet from them) because she didn't want a never-ending list of questions nor her brothers to get all uppity and start making claims that they would hunt Ian down.

So she spent a lot of time on her own. She enjoyed this time because it allowed her to remove herself from everything and be at peace. Instead of fretting over whatever relationship she had screwed up, she looked at it objectively. She had been blinded by Ian's charm. He just wanted sex,; that was the kind of person he was, he couldn't change, and that was okay. She couldn't change him.

_He didn't have to be such a jackass_, a cynical thought popped into her head as she rounded the last corner of her early run. She was running twice a day most days now to shed all the extra energy that was usually spent creating lesson plans, writing lectures, and grading papers. Though she tried to clear the thought from her mind, the negativity had already seeped in. _He's a coward. He could have called and talked to you about it._

"And that's why I don't need him," Brooke whispered to herself. She shook her head, trying to rid it of the adverse thoughts. "I don't need that in my life. I don't care."

Although she was feeling quite fatigued already, she turned down a street early and decided to add another half mile or so to her run. She needed to shed all of that energy and completely clear her mind so she could focus at the zoo. She turned the music up on her Walkman and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, all she could focus on was the lyrics blasting into her ears. She mimed the words as she ran along. Her focus shifted and she gained a tunnel vision that blocked out any of her surroundings that were not directly in front of her.

By the time she reached her block she was panting heavily and drenched in sweat. It was so early that the sun hadn't yet peaked the trees, and the moon was still viewable in the western sky. The night had done nothing to relieve the unusually high temperatures of mid-June, and the humidity was almost unbearably high. When she reached her house she slowed to a walk. Her legs, shaking from overexertion, gave out momentarily and she stumbled forward. She righted herself and placed her hands on her hips, taking deep, labored breaths to relieve the stich that had tightened in her abdomen.

Her music still blasting, she walked to her front door. Her hands trembled slightly, causing her to fumble with the lock. A hand on her shoulder nearly set her flying out of her skin. She leaped to the side and spun around to face the person who in her mind would be her "attacker".

Instead she found herself facing a very startled Ian Malcolm. He had taken a step back from the door and put his hands up in defense.

"What the hell were you thinking sneaking up on me like that in the _dark_?" Brooke exclaimed. Ian motioned for her to take her headphones off.

"I-I said 'hello' when you ran up," Ian replied. "I just figured you were ignoring me or something. You know, you're going to make yourself, ah, deaf with music that loud."

"Thanks for the tip," Brooke snapped. She walked back up to her door and opened it abruptly, sending Ian back a few feet in surprise. "If you'll excuse me."

"Brooke wait." Ian placed a hand on the door and held it shut. Brooke glared at him. "I-I need to talk to you."

"Then you should have called two weeks ago. I need to go to work."

Ian went to put a hand on her shoulder but his hand stopped awkwardly mid-air, like he had just realized Brooke had a thin coat of sweat covering her entire body. Instead he kind of coughed and abruptly ran his fingers through his hair. Brooke raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. Ian glanced around and then met her eyes.

"We really, uh, we really need to talk." His tone had changed from demanding to slightly desperate. Brooke bit her lip and nodded, her shoulders relaxed just slightly.

"Okay," she said. "But I really need to get to work."

"I hope you intend to—intend to shower." The slightest smirk appeared on Ian's lips as he looked her up and down. Brooke narrowed her eyes and forced the door open quickly, sending Ian back a few more steps.

"So call me this time, okay?" she said as she stepped inside, not breaking eye contact. Ian nodded, and Brooke ducked inside and closed the door quickly behind her.

Once inside, Brooke leaned her back against the door and bowed her head. As weight rolled gently off her shoulders, anxiety balled in the put of her stomach. Finally, they were going to talk. But what would she say to him? There were a lot of angry feelings bubbling around in her brain, but she didn't want to explode on Ian. She wanted to patch their relationship, not burn the remains to the ground.

A knock on the door startled Brooke. "Ian?" she called.

"I'll, uh, call you tonight."

"Okay."

Brooke locked the door behind her and headed to the shower. She tried not to run scenarios in her head. She was happy she had a bit of a solid ground to stand on and time to think, but she didn't want to obsess. _I'll go with the flow,_ she reasoned to herself as she hopped in the shower. _I'll tell him how I feel, and make him understand that if it happens again we're absolutely done. He can't just run like that._

After a quick shower, Brooke geared up for the zoo. Clad in her khaki shorts and button up shirt, she looked like a regular safari guide. She clipped on her nametag and laced up her favorite hiking boots. When she looked in the mirror, something looked _off_. She cocked her head to the side and looked herself over in the mirror. Not a hair was out of place, nor a thread of clothing disturbed. She forced a smile, but couldn't hide the strained look in her eyes. Something just wasn't right.

_I'm in a funk,_ she resolved with a shake of her head. _Between Ian and Ohio and Africa, I need to clear my head._

Luckily, there was just something about working with the elephants that was able to put Brooke in a good mood, and within an hour or so of arriving at work she was in much higher spirits. She tried to encourage herself to look on the bright side of things. Ian had approached her, which had to mean there was an apology coming her way. In a little over two weeks she would be heading to the Columbus Zoo, one of the best facilities in the country, and after that she would return to her beloved Africa. Things were beginning to look up, she just needed to keep her head held high.

x-x-x

"Hello?" Brooke answered the internal enclosure phone with a smile, looking over to Themba and wiggling in her chair a little. The elephant calf raised her trunk as high as she could, reaching through the bars of the enclosure. Brooke reached out and gently scratched the elephant's trunk.

"Yes, this is Marianne Shultz from Crestwood County Day Camp," a woman on the other side introduced. "This is concerning Kelly Curtis."

"I'm sorry?"

"Is this Brooke DiAngelo?" 'Marianne' asked.

Brooke retracted her hand from the elephant and turned toward the phone. Themba trumpeted in protest. Brooke paused and then said: "Yes, this is she."  
"You are listed as Kelly Curtis' non-parental Emergency Contact," the woman explained. "She had an accident today at camp."

Brooke's heart stopped. She didn't care to know why she was Kelly's E.C, or why they didn't call her father first. She gripped the edge of her desk with one hand and demanded: "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"Kelly fell off the balance beam and we suspect she broken her arm, and it's very possible she has a concussion as well," Marianne replied. Brooke gasped. "Since you're her Emergency Contact, you need to be here before we send her to the emergency room."

"Are you kidding me?!" Brooke exclaimed. "What about her father?"

"We attempted to reach him, he's unavailable."

Brooke stomped her foot and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "You can't send her to the E.R if I give you verbal permission?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. DiAngelo, but our policy is—"

"I'm in the Bronx, I'll be there in an hour and a half if the traffic's good. In the meantime, please keep trying to get in touch with her father." Without waiting for a response, she hung up and raced to the Head of Husbandry's office.

"It's an emergency, I have to go," she said as she burst in on a board meeting. Her supers looked at her questioningly.

"My….ah, well, I wouldn't really call him my boyfriend…my 'whatever-he-is''s daughter broke her arm at summer camp and for whatever reason I'm an emergency contact and they can't reach her father." Brooke took a breath, realizing she was getting a little hysterical. "So I have to drive out to Melville before they can get her to a hospital."

"Emergency Contact already?" her manager remarked, studying her suspiciously. "Haven't you only been going out for a month or so?"

"Yeah, we're going to have to have a nice long chat about this one," Brooke replied quickly, already halfway out the door. "Everyone's fed!" she called over her shoulder.

Brooke had never driven so fast or so haphazardly as she did that day. As soon as she hit the Long Island Expressway, she dropped her foot on the gas pedal. Her heart was racing and her head was swimming. She hoped and prayed incessantly that the camp had reached Ian, and that when she arrived she would be turned away. She would much rather be able to slow down and drive to the drug store and pick up some flowers and candy, and leisurely drive to the hospital.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. Brooke pulled into the camp (the very same where she had worked as lifeguard in college), and tore up the driveway. When she parked, she was scolded by a few of the counselors, whom she told kindly to "Please fuck off" as she bolted to the office. She was met by the head of the camp and shown to a room where Kelly was sitting watching a movie. Her arm was in a sling, and even though she smiled when she saw Brooke, there were tears in her eyes.

"Hey pal," Brooke said with a smile, finally able to breathe easy. "Let's get you to a doctor. We'll go to Stony Brook University Hospital, so we can get your dad in as soon as possible."

"For our records, Ms. DiAngelo," Marianne Shultz said as Brooke signed some papers. "Who are you in relation to Kelly?"

"A friend of her father's," Brooke replied as she led Kelly out of the office.

"It says here—"

"I don't really care!" Brooke shouted over her shoulder.

For the entire ride to the hospital, Brooke tried to console the sniffling 7 year-old. She attempted to keep Kelly happy and her mind off the pain in her arm. However, as soon as that arm was in a cast, Brooke was going to have a serious conversation with the young girl. She shook her head, still in a state of disbelief that she had been put in this situation.

How could Ian put the responsibility of his daughter in Brooke's hands? They had only been dating for about a month (not including their passed two weeks off), so it baffled her mind that he would put the responsibility of his child on her shoulders. Sure, Kelly and Brooke got on like sisters, but that certainly did not mean Brooke wanted Kelly's life in her hands. What if it had been more than a broken arm? What if Kelly had hurt her neck or her back? Or worse? What would Brooke have done then? How could Ian ever expect Brooke to be able to handle that?

Apparently, Ian didn't expect any of that. Kelly did. At the beginning of camp, the children were to bring in Emergency Contact cards. There were supposed to be two numbers that the camp was to be able to call in case of an emergency. Kelly's mom had filled it out herself before she left for Italy the month before, s_he_ was supposed to be the primary contact, and Ian the second. But, since Kelly's mother had jetted off to Italy, Kelly had taken it upon herself to fill in Brooke's information instead. She filled in Brooke as the primary, and then Ian as her secondary. Luckily, it seemed the camp agreed with how illogical that was, and called Ian first. But still, if "Marianne Shultz" had not been thinking, Brooke would have been their first call.

"How did you get my number the zoo?" Brooke asked Kelly. She stared incredulously at the child, who had just admitted her scheme. Brooke was _livid_. She never thought she could be angry with Kelly, but she was steaming like a hot teakettle. Even as she sat in the hospital bed with her newly cast arm looking absolutely pathetic, Brooke wanted to yell.

"I had the camp call information. I said that Daddy worked all day and you were the best bet."

Brooke put her head in her hands and shook it. "Why?" she asked, her voice muffled behind her hands. "Why did you put my name down?"

"I thought we were friends," Kelly sounded hurt. "I thought you said I could call you any time!"

"You can," Brooke replied, looking up. She sat up straight and took a breath. "You can call me any time. But I should not be your Emergency Contact. Your number one phone call should be your dad. And if not your dad, then your mom, and then an aunt or uncle or grandparent or something. I should be one of the last people on the list. Or at least you should have _asked_ your father or me. It's not my job to be here, Kelly, I'm not the one who should be with you."

"I thought we were friends," Kelly repeated, and Brooke could see the tears welling up in her eyes. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Kelly," Brooke didn't mean to snap, but she was incredibly stressed out by this entire situation. "I am your friend. Your _friend_, not your mother. What if I had been in Ohio? What if I was out when you called? You would have had to wait in pain at camp until someone got to you. I love you like a little sister, pal, I really do, but I am not responsible for you, and you really shouldn't have put my name down on that card. _I_ _shouldn't be here_."

Kelly stared at Brooke for a long time. Brooke knew she messed up and that she could have chosen her words differently, but she was also very aware that she couldn't take them back. Before she could apologize, Kelly looked her straight in the eyes and said: "I want you to leave."

"I can't leave," Brooke replied. "You're under 18. I'm going right outside to try to call your dad again." This would be the fourth time. "I'm sorry I was so harsh."

Kelly narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. Without a response, she turned and stared out the window. Brooke felt terrible as she walked out the door and across the hall to the pay phone. She had really messed up.

But thankfully, Ian was finally reached. "Hey, Brooke, uh, what's up?" he asked cautiously. "They said you're calling—that you're calling from the hospital, are you okay?"  
"I've tried calling you three times," Brooke said, exasperated. "I don't want you to freak out, but I'm fine. It's Kelly."

"What?!"

"Kelly had an accident on the balance beam at camp," Brooke explained, keeping her voice steady so as not to make the situation worse than it already was. "She's fine, just a minor break of her Radius and there is a small possibility she has a concussion that will have to be watched for 24 hours. For a reason _she'll_ explain to when you get here, I was her contact. She's doing well—you need to sign her out, though, since I'm not a legal guardian."

"Where are you?"

"Across the street at Stony Brook U Hospital," Brooke replied. "We need—"

But the line went dead on the other side. Brooke slammed the phone on the receiver and let out a long sigh. She had quite enough of both of the Malcolms for today. But, she was obligated to stay. So she poked her head in the door and told Kelly she was going to be right outside. She didn't get a response, so she just gave up and leaned on the wall outside.

"God forbid I ever become a parent," she mumbled to herself.

Ian Malcolm came into the hospital like a storm. Brooke watched as he threw open the doors of the floor, his coat flaring out behind him. He moved quite quickly with his cane. Brooke ran up to meet him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, we need to talk," she said.

"No, I, I need to see my daughter," he said, shaking his head.

"We need to talk _about_ your daughter," Brooke replied, standing her ground. "She's in her hospital room, and she's fine. She can stand two minutes." Ian didn't say anything, but motioned for her to continue. "I love your daughter like a little sister, but how the hell could this happen? I should not be here. I had to haul ass from the Bronx because I was the "first" contact the camp had. How am I the primary contact? Are we even together anymore? Do you know what I went through when I got that phone call?"

"Yeah," Ian snapped, obviously agitated. "I think I can imagine."

"How could you let this happen?"

"Me? How—how is this my fault?"

"You're her father!"

Ian paused and shook his head. He was just as upset as Brooke was, probably far more so. He was practically growling. "Now I don't need another wife-wannabe telling me what to do or—or how to be a father."

Brooke was practically reeling. She threw her hands up and backed away from him. She could not believe her ears. It took her a couple of seconds, but she managed to compose herself.

"I'm not trying to be anyone's wife, I'm am certainly not trying to be anyone's mother! I'm trying to be a good friend to a little girl who so _desperately_ needs one and I almost had a heart attack because I was thrust into the "wife wannabe" position when I certainly didn't—" her voice caught, so she lowered the volume in her voice and tried to steady her tone so she didn't start crying or completely get lost in anger. "I'm just trying to be something of importance to you." She dropped her voice even lower, so the possible spectators around them could not hear. "Even though your own daughter warned against it." Ian was at a temporary loss for words, so Brooke took the opportunity and stepped aside, motioning for Ian to go.

Ian stared at her for a few moments and then brushed by her in a huff. Brooke balled her hands into fists and shook her head. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream in frustration. But she took a few deep breaths and walked back toward the room. She didn't enter, but leaned against the wall just outside. She bowed her head, staring at the floor.

"You."

Brooke looked up, and though she had never met the woman who stood before her in her life, she knew exactly who it was. With her eyes narrowed, deep creases in the dark skin of her forehead, and her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest, it seemed as if Brooke was the last person in the world the ex-Mrs. Malcolm wanted to see.

"You're the zoologist, I presume? The one _my_ daughter won't shut up about?"

Brooke nodded her head silently.

Kelly's mother pursed her lips and looked Brooke up and down, not hiding an ounce of contempt. "You can go now."

Brooke didn't protest. She just watched as the ex-Mrs. Malcolm made a faint noise of disgust and walked into Kelly's room. Brooke heard an excited: "Mommy!" and a not-so-excited "Susan? What—what are you doing here?"

She didn't look back, Brooke just walked away. She had had more than enough today, and it was taking all she had not to burst into tears of anger and frustration. As she walked through the hospital, she rubbed her eyes gently, trying to appear as if she were just exhausted when really she was wiping tears away.

Brooke drove home slowly, with the radio blasting. In the safety of her car, she wasn't afraid to let the tears escape, slowly tracking down her checks and staining her shirt. When she pulled into her driveway, she got out slowly and slammed her car door shut. She stomped up the path, slammed her front door behind her and collapsed on her couch. She pulled the throw pillow close and closed her eyes.

Just before she slipped off into slumber, the phone rang. Brooke groaned and rolled over, letting it ring. Thinking it might be Ian, she got up and walked toward the machine on the counter. Her away message played, the tone rang, and the caller began.

"Hello, I'm calling for Brooke DiAngelo. My name is Richard Levine and—"

Richard Levine. The man, the myth, the legend of comparative zoology. Richard Levine was the top male zoologist in his field. Brooke believed he was surpassed only by Sarah Harding. After studying zoology at Yale, he quickly rose to the top of the paleontology field. While completing her Masters, Brooke had taken a class where he had lectured quite a few times. While in Africa studying the elephants and teaching, Richard Levine stopped by Brooke's camp for a few days while inspecting the products of a dino dig in the area. They had gotten to know each other pretty well. As far as Brooke was concerned, he was a spoiled brat of a man, a know-it-all, and a grade-A pain-in-the-ass. But he was the head of the field, and when they worked together those few days Brooke seemed to impress him. Over the past two years there had been a bit of strained connection, mostly concerning lectures or new papers that were published by their colleagues. There was no way she would be ignoring his call.

Brooke quickly picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Brooke?"

"Richard?" Brooke replied. "I'm sorry I didn't pick up the phone, I was in the other room."

"It's no problem Brooke."

"How are you, what have you been doing?"

"You're going to laugh," Richard replied, and Brooke could hear the pretentious sneer in his voice already. "But I got into a little trouble and I'm being forced to teach the seventh grade at some dump high school in San Diego."

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Oh really? How's that treating you?"

"Well it's allowed me to develop some theories and gave me time to do extensive research."

"About what?"

There was a pause on the end of the line. "I heard you did a lecture with Dr. Ian Malcolm," Richard said abruptly.

"Yes, in May."

"I've heard you two are in some sort of relationship."

"Something like that…" Brooke trailed off. "But I don't see how that has to do with anything."

Another pause on the line.

"Richard?"

"Brooke…let's talk dinosaurs."


	15. Resolutions

**Chapter 15**

* * *

"Well that's obvious," Brooke replied with a roll of her eyes. They had only been talking for a little over half an hour, but already Richard Levine was sending her up a wall. "A large skull cavity does not beget a large cerebral cortex however that would be the tell. Look at parrots. Their intelligence is linked to their large cerebral cortex, but their brains are pretty damn small compared to their body. I don't know paleontology or archaeology, is there an indication in the skull remains or fossils of a large cerebral cortex?"

"We can only guess if we get a good endocast of the skull," Richard replied. "But it's still only a guess. That's why I would need you there. Your work with elephants has been _crucial_ to understanding their livelihoods, and I hear your planning to do more in-depth research when you're back in Africa? Jane Goodall it a bit?"

"Yes, you could say that," Brooke replied shortly. "Which is why I cannot just jump on this bandwagon with you. I'm not going to abandon what I've dedicated my life to for some chance at—"

"Nobel Peace Prizes? Global recognition? Your name a household name in every educated home across the world? What seems so heinous about this venture?"

Brooke laughed harshly, and was about to reply when there was a knock on the door. "Hold on a second, Richard." Brooke put the phone to her chest as to muffle the noise. It was odd, she wasn't expecting anyone.

"Who is it?" she called, walking over to the door to ensure it was locked.

"Ian."

Brooke walked over to the door and put the phone back to her ear, stretching the chord from the kitchen. She opened it and welcomed Ian in. As she closed the door behind him, she turned her attention back to her conversation. "Richard?" she said. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

"Is Ian there?"

"What—yes, he is. How did you know that?" Brooke looked at Ian, her eyebrows raised. He returned her expression with a furrowed brow.

"I heard. Tell him to return my calls."

"I will. Goodbye—"

"Think about it Brooke. This is the opportunity of a lifetime."

"I'm not going to throw my career away on chance, Richard." Ian looked slightly taken aback, so she rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm going to give you a few days to think about it, and then I'll call you back."

"Please don—"

"Have a good evening, Brooke." And abruptly the line went dead on the other side. Brooke took the phone from her ear, but stared at it in confusion for a few moments. Shaking her head slightly, she told Ian to give her a moment while she returned the phone to the kitchen.

"Who—who was that?" Ian asked when she returned. She offered him a glass of water, a peace offering. After the phone call she just had, their arguments seemed trivial.

"Richard Levine," Brooke replied. Ian's expression changed quickly from curiosity to one that was a bit panicked.

"What did that little pain in the ass want?" he asked.

"Just a consult," Brooke replied, not really lying-just not letting Ian in on the whole truth. "He wanted to run by some theories of the cognitive abilities of large herbivorous dinosaurs."

"What do you know about that?" Ian rubbed the back of his neck, obviously unsettled by the scenario.

"I don't," Brooke replied. "But since my work revolves around the largest herbivores on the planet, and those with astonishing mental capacity, he thought that I could help offer some assistance."

"Any, uh, any idea why he called you, in-in particular?"

"Yeah, we met in Africa last year. He was on a dig site about 50 miles east of the elephant herd site I was monitoring, and they were having problems with the dig so he stuck around our camp for about a week. He took a keen interest in me, more specifically what I was working on with the elephants and my future plans. Ever since we've been in contact, but not really. I try to avoid him. He's such a stuck-up know-it-all brat sometimes."

"That he is."

"He told me to tell you to return his calls."

Ian's eyes widened. "How—how the hell did he know I was here?"

Brooke shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. I mean I was on the phone when I answered the door so I guess he must have heard when I asked who it was?"

"That man…"

The two fell into an uneasy silence. Both of them took sips from their glasses, equally avoiding eye contact with the other. "So…" Ian said.

"So…" Brooke ran her fingers through her hair. The two kind of stared at each other momentarily. Brooke decided to take the first step. "Look, I'm sorry for the way I acted today at the hospital." She put her glass of water on the coffee table near the couch and invited Ian to sit down. They stayed far apart, one on either side. "I was scared. When I got that phone call every piece of me freaked the fuck out. I didn't know what to do or how to do it and I got scared and angry. I have never been responsible for another human being in that way in my life. Knowing that she was hurt it felt, it felt—"

"Like you couldn't breathe?" Ian murmured.

Brooke nodded. "Exactly. I felt all this pressure suddenly crushing down on my shoulders. I'm not going to lie, I was pissed and frustrated that you hadn't called and it all came bubbling to the top when I got that call from the camp. I shouldn't have said what I said to you, and I know Kelly probably hates me for the things I said to her. I'm sorry, but I just got scared."

"I was scared too."

"I bet."

"No, Brooke," Ian corrected. "Not about Kelly. Well, well yes—yes of course I was scared when I got that phone call don't, uh, misunderstand me there. But between us, I got scared."

Brooke cocked her head to the side, and then shook her head defensively. "You're kidding me." She looked away from him. "You've got to be kidding me. That's why you didn't call? Because you were _scared_?" She felt the nastiness that had been holding up inside her for the passed two weeks begin to bubble. Ian picked up on it instantly, and began his defensive.

"You could have called me, too, you know," he said, running his fingers through his hair. Brooke's temper had ignited his, and Brooke could see the pride swelling in his chest.

"I did!" Brooke replied earnestly. "I called your office three times to make sure you weren't dead. I got your secretary, and then your answering machine twice. I left a message all three times. Are you going to try to tell me you didn't get my messages?"

Ian remained silent.

"I thought so." Brooke shook her head again as she stood up and started toward the door, intending to open it up and kick him out. She had wanted to be the bigger person, but it was like she was a powder keg, and Ian's comment had been the one little spark to set her on fire.

"Brooke."

The hopeless way he said her name forced her to turn back and face him. She crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. Ian stood up and took a step toward her, but she put her hand out to stop him. She crossed her arms tighter and raised her eyebrows.

"I don't do relationships," Ian told her. "When people ask me if I'm married I-I have to say 'sometimes' because in the past 10 years I've been married three times-three times! And-and each of those marriages because of the woman wanting more than I did, and none of them lasting more than three years. I don't like relationships, but I'm trying for-for you. Then there was the barbecue and-and I was meeting your family and then the…quite frankly some of the best sex I've ever had…and the church thing. I like you, Brooke. Hell, I might even love you. But I don't want to fuck it up."

"Then you would have called."

"I fucked it up!" Ian said, his tone rising just slightly as he threw his hands up. "I did, and I'm sorry." He approached Brooke again. This time, Brooke didn't move. He touched her shoulder gently. "I fucked it up. When people—when they get close to me, sometimes, well, uh, I've been told I'm not very likable. Between your friends' skepticism and—and your mother with the Church thing…I still, uh, dream about the dinosaurs. I still, uh, have flashbacks whenever I see rippling across the surface of water. I have this reputation…the 'dinosaur man'…the nutjob…" He trailed off, caressing her upper arm gently. "I thought for sure you'd see what they saw—what they all claim to see and—and I'd lose you."

Brooke studied Ian hard. She searched his eyes, the lines of his forehead, the way the corner of his mouth twitched in a frown. She looked for any sign, any tell of a lie. When she found none, she bowed and shook her head. "Ian," she murmured. Ian's hand clasped gently around her upper arm. She looked up again. "It's going to be a little hard for me to trust you again."

"I know."

"Were there any other women?"

"No."

"_Ian."_

"No, Brooke, there were no other women." He lifted her chin gently so their eyes met. He traced his thumb along her jaw, and Brooke inclined her head to his touch. She closed her eyes as he cupped his hand just behind her ear, his fingers running through her locks. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her. Tentatively, Brooke wrapped her arms around his midsection and put her forehead to his chest. "I'm so sorry I hurt you," Ian told her. "I will try-I will not to do it again."

Brooke nodded, accepting that his promise to try would be the best she would get. It was all she could ask for. So she tightened her grip around him just slightly, and he kissed her head again.

"Oh," he murmured, "I have something—something for you."

Brooke raised an eyebrow as Ian released her from the embrace and fished into his pocket. "Turn around," he instructed. Brooke did as she was told. He wrapped his arms around her, extending one hand out in front of her. In his palm was a small velvet box. Brooke took it gently, glancing back at Ian.

"What is—?"

"Just open it," he encouraged.

Brooke turned back to box in her hands. As she opened it she asked: "Is this some kind of 'I'm sorry I was an ass' gift?" she asked. "Should I get you one for being one today at the hospital?"

Ian didn't reply, but waited for Brooke to reveal the contents to continue. Inside the box was a silver chain with a small crocodile pendent.

"What…where did you find this?" Brooke asked.

"A few days after you took us to zoo to meet the elephants," Ian replied. "You had mentioned that crocodiles were your favorite. I was going to give it to you after the barbecue, but…"

Brooke shook her head, picking the pendent up in her fingers and studying it carefully. "It's beautiful," she said. "Ian, I can't—"

"You can."

Ian reached over her shoulder and took the necklace from the box. With only a little protest from Brooke, he put it around her neck and did the clasp. His hands ran down her sides and around to her midsection. Brooke couldn't help but smile as she looked down at her gift. She placed her one of her hands over his, the other over the pendant, and leaned back against his chest.

"I'm sorry," Ian murmured in her ear.

"Stop." Brooke turned herself to face him, still wrapped in his arms. "I…accept your apology." She paused, looked down at her necklace and then back up at him, a small smile playing her lips. "Are you sure this isn't some sort of bribe?"

Ian chuckle-growled and shook his head. Brooke smiled; she had missed that irritating laugh of his. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She had missed that too. With only a few articles of clothing separating them, she could easily get what she had _really_ missed. But despite the necklace gesture, despite his obvious sincere apologies, something inside of Brooke stopped her from throwing her pants across the room. Her stomach tightened slightly, and a nervous feeling rose in her throat. She pulled back from the kiss.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to the little patient?" she asked him, running her fingers over the buttons of his shirt.

"Ah, no, actually," Ian replied, a small smile playing his lips. "Since Susan—Kelly's mother is back in town, and since she's on a concussion watch, they're uh, having some sort of—some sort of mother-daughter, uh, sleepover spa night thing. No boys allowed."

"I'm pretty sure your wife hates me," Brooke told him as they moved to sit back down on the couch.

"Why—why would you say that?"

Brooke revealed to him their brief encounter at the hospital on the couch. "A woman knows when she is hated by another woman," Brooke said. "And your wife hates me."

"She's just jealous," Ian replied with an easy shrug. Sitting close, he traced his fingers up and down Brooke's upper arm. "In, what? A month since she's been gone—I've uh, heard the conversations, the phone calls with Kelly. She, uh, raves about you. Susan likes to, uh, control everything. She can't—well she can't control you, and she couldn't control how attached her daughter became to you." That made Brooke smile just a little bit to hear Kelly was so fond of her. Hopefully, she could regain the little girl's admiration.

"So are you out of a house?" Brooke asked him.

"Ah, it would seem so," Ian replied, a sly smirk returning to his lips. "I have an apartment near them—near Kelly and Susan in Oyster Bay but—"

"You're more than welcome to stay here," Brooke replied with a smile. "Whatever that means to you. Couch, bed, whatever."

Ian's smile widened and he leaned in and kissed Brooke very gently. "That would—that would be wonderful." He took her hands in his. "Let me take you out to dinner to uh, say thanks." With his free hand, Ian traced Brooke's jawline as she nodded very slightly in agreement. She guessed that wouldn't be the only way he'd be saying 'thanks' that evening.


	16. Deception

**Chapter 16**

* * *

_5 Days Later_

It was a very awkward lunch. Richard Levine obviously had figured out just how to push and press every single one of Ian Malcolm's buttons, and Brooke could tell that Ian was exercising great self-control in not punching the snot-nose rich kid in the jaw. Brooke tried to seem unimpressed and apathetic towards Richard's venture, but she could not deny her intrigue. While Ian leaned with his back rigidly against the back of the booth, his hands playing nervously with the fork on the table, Brooke inclined slightly to the arrogant man across from her. She uncrossed her arms and put a hand gently on Ian's knee.

What Richard was proposing was, as Ian put it: "Fundamentally insane." He wanted to take a small group of scientists to Site B. Site B was the Island where InGen first created its dinosaurs. It was the "testing grounds". They would perfect the D.N.A, and then send those specimens to Isla Nublar to be a part of "Jurassic Park". John Hammond had contacted Richard Levine because he believed that there were still dinosaurs living—and thriving—on this "Site B.". The old man wanted to assemble a team to go back and explore, gather information and report back to him. What he would then do with the returned information, he kept secret.

John Hammond was attacked by the small scavenger dinosaurs, _Compsognathus_ just before he, Ian, Alan Grant, Ellie Sattler, and his grandkids escaped the island. He was lucky to be alive, but severely crippled since. So with the help of his grandson, Tim, he sought out "the best of the best". Once Richard Levine was recruited, Tim dropped off the project. So Richard continued to seek out the 'prizes' of the scientific community. He went after Alan Grant and Ellie Sattler (now Ellie Sattler-Grant after a messy divorce from her first husband), who flat-out refused. He then went to Sarah Harding, who was busy with her Hyenas in Africa. Next, he approached Brooke, who told him she would give him a few days, and Ian who managed to avoid him for weeks. Richard still needed a paleontologist, but would not rest until he got either Brooke or Ian on his team.

The hardest thing about this afternoon was pretending that it wasn't staged. Brooke knew that there would be no way to get Ian to agree to any sort of venture. So before their lunch date, Brooke called Richard from the zoo and talked to him. He gave her monetary estimates of what just working for three days in the field would provide for her. After her initial reservations, it was impossible to give up. Every school loan, several houses payments, and several car payments would be covered. In three days. She had to do it. But, knowing Ian would never let her leave the front door, they had to be sneaky.

So Richard and Brooke set up the lunch. They talked about what they were going to say, and how they were going to react to certain Ian reactions. Brooke felt awful—literally sick to her stomach—thinking about deceiving Ian, but it was an opportunity she simply could not object to. She had learned that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, and she could only hope Ian would forgive her.

By the way he glared at Richard, Brooke saw chances of redemption fading away.

"Brooke, you said you'd think about it and I've given you plenty of time to think," Richard argued, bringing Brooke back from her thoughts.

"Think?" Ian objected before Brooke could answer. He turned to her, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed. "Are—are you…you can't be seriously considering this."

"Mr. Hammond wants to make it worth your while," Richard offered.

"Fuck Hammond!" Ian exclaimed, slamming a fist down on the table, gaining quite a few sidelong glances from other patrons and a few worried looks from the waiting staff. "Brooke, you—you can't go. Absolutely—absolutely not."

Brooke took a deep breath and shook her head. "I want to know what would make it worth my while," she said, keeping her voice steady. She looked right at Richard, avoiding Ian's gaze. It was easier to lie that way. Richard raised his eyebrows, a small smirk creeping onto his lips.

"Well, Brooke," he began. "You see—"

"Brooke you can't be serious."

Brooke turned to Ian and took his hand. "Please let him talk, I just want to hear what he has to say."

"You shouldn't—you shouldn't have to listen to what he has to say. Brooke—"

"Stop," Brooke said, hearing the hint of desperation in her own voice. "Please, just let him talk."

Ian shook his head and huffed an irritated sigh. He released Brooke's hand and turned away from her. He folded his hands on the table and tapped his foot rapidly. "Well?" he snapped at Richard. "Get on with it."

Richard looked at Brooke and smiled smugly. "Well you certainly have him going."

"Shut up and get on with it," Brooke said quietly.

"When does your work with the Elephants conclude?"

"I'll be working with Columbus Zoo from July 1st to August 31st," Brooke replied. "And then I'm back for the first two weeks in September. Then I'll be in Africa from September, uhm, 15th I believe until December 20th."

"What are you planning to do afterwards?"

Brooke shrugged, slightly confused by the turn in the conversation. "I'm not sure yet, as far as research goes. I'm going to be teaching the Spring Semester at Stony Brook and finishing my dissertation, but then I'm not quite sure."

"I've heard you originally wanted to work with crocodiles, is that right?"

Brooke's hand instantly went to the crocodile pendant that Ian had given her. She looked at Ian quickly and then back at Richard. "How did you know that?" This had been something she and Richard hadn't discussed.

"I've done my research."

"What—"

"For every day you spend on Isla Sorna—Site B—Mr. Hammond will not only pay you a hefty salary, but he will also fund _one year_ of research of saltwater crocodiles in Australia." Brooke's eyes widened. "He's very interested to see the comparative results of today's 'modern day dinosaurs' to the dinosaurs on his island. He'll pay for everything—travel, equipment, lodging."

"Everything?" Brooke whispered. That was a part of the deal she had been unaware of. Her stomach flipped, and her guilty feeling diminished just slightly. Richard Levine nodded. "How long will I have to be on the Island?" She tried to steer the conversation back to what had been rehearsed.

"Brooke you can't be—"

Brooke put her hand up to cut Ian off. Richard smiled. "Three days. That's all we ask. You can choose to extend your stay, if you wish and you will be paid accordingly, but we only need three days."

"When will it be and what am I expected to do?" Now, she was trying to finish the conversation. It was becoming too drawn out, and she could feel Ian's eyes bearing down on her.

"Brooke I—I can't believe you're considering this."

Brooke ignored him, looking at Richard. "All of the equipment will be ready next weekend." What he said was a lie. They'd be ready that night. "This includes two state-of-the-art, combat-ready vehicles that run completely on solar energy. They are nearly silent so as not to disturb the animals, and built to withstand an assault of army tanks. One will be used as a lab, set up with computers, centrifuges, and blood processors and the other as living space. We also have a high-hide-out, which is a cage that can be tied up in the trees for safe observation. We will also have access to a land car and an all-terrain motorcycle."

"Weapons?" She already knew this.

"Oh yes, we'll be bringing along high quantities of Immobulin,"—which Brooke knew as a highly potent neurotoxin, often used in small doses to anesthetize elephants, rhinos, giraffes, and other large wildlife—"as well as high powered rifles and a few grenades as well—as last resorts. Of course, Mr. Hammond doesn't want any of the animals killed, so we'll be limited in our non-sedative weaponry."

Brooke nodded. "My job?" Once again, Richard would tell her what she already knew.

"To study the herbivores," Richard replied. "We're still going to try and get Sarah Harding to do the carnivores—"

"She won't go," Brooke replied, knowing that Richard was in fact still trying to recruit Harding. "She's not leaving Africa."

"No—no she's not," Ian interjected. "Because she's—she's _smart_. She's heard—heard the horrors of Jurassic Park and—and she knows it's suicide." He took Brooke's hand and made her look at him. "It's _suicide._"

"Ian…" Brooke trailed. "I'm sorry." She was sorry for a whole lot more than this lunch.

Ian's eyes grew wide once again as he realized her intentions. "No," he murmured as Brooke turned back to Richard.

"I'll go for three days," she said. Richard looked more than chuffed as he extended his hand to Brooke.

"Brooke, no." Ian tightened his grip on Brooke's hand. She pulled it away from him and held it toward Richard. Before she shook, she withdrew her hand just slightly.

"I'll go for three days, and have nothing to do with carnivores," she told him firmly. "I will work _on my terms_ to research the herbivores, in exchange for the salary and three years' funded research. If I feel unsafe or feel that I am in immediate danger, I will pull myself from the island and forfeit any money from my remaining time _but _receive any and all monetary gains that I had made up to that very _minute_." With the exception of the addition of the research funds, these were terms that had already been made.

"Deal," Richard said. Brooke clasped his hand and shook it.

"Brooke, you don't know what you've done."

Brooke turned to Ian. "I don't have a choice," she told him. "I need the money for research. After December, I'll have nothing but teaching. I can't do just that. It's just three days."

"Three days?" Ian exclaimed. "Do—do you know how long—just how long it took for things to go terribly—terribly wrong at Jurassic Park? Three _hours_. We—we were off that Island in just over 24. Three—three days…" He slammed his hand down on the table.

"Let's go home and talk about this," Brooke suggested.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Then let's just go home."

Ian stood up and walked away. Brooke turned to Richard. "Try to get him on our side," Richard said.

"I would feel much safer with him there, but I know it's not going to happen," she replied.

"See what you can do, and I guess we'll see tomorrow. I'll be round your house tomorrow at 4:30."

"Okay."

Brooke got up from the table and hurried after Ian. She grabbed his hand when she caught up with him in the parking lot. He turned around abruptly, startling her slightly. His voice was harsh as he told her: "You—you have no idea what you've done."

The ride back to Brooke's house was quiet. Her heart beat rapidly, and she kept glancing over to Ian nervously. He caught her eye once and narrowed his eyes, then shook his head and looked away. _If he only knew,_ Brooke thought to herself sadly.

When they got back to the house, he stalked to the front door and turned and waited for her to unlock the it. As soon as he was inside the house, he sent off pacing. Brooke let Felicity out in the backyard and turned back to Ian. "Hey," she murmured, and walked up in front of him. He took her by the shoulders and held her there.

"What…what were you thinking?" His eyes searched hers and one of his hands moved to her neck, his thumb tracing along her jaw. "You—you've heard the stories. Do—do you want to be—like me? You know the night—mares, the flashbacks. Do you want to end up like me? Or worse? It is _suicide_."

"I'm sorry, Ian," she whispered. "But I need the money. I was thinking about all the research I'll be able to do with that money. It's only three days. It's different this time, they're more prepared. Hammond isn't an idiot—"

"No, he's _insane_, Brooke."

"Then come with me," she told him. "I'd feel so much better with you there."

"I will—will _never_ go back there."

"It's not Jurassic Park," Brooke replied. Ian tensed up at the name.

"It's worse."

"I'm going."

"No, you're not. I—I won't let you."

Brooke bit her lip, suddenly feeling trapped. She didn't want to lose Ian over what she knew was a pretty stupid decision. The depth of that decision had sunk in, and it scared her. She thought back to the stories Ian had told her, and she ran her hand over the scars that were hidden just under the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Convince me," she murmured, her hand moving to the buttons on his shirt.

"What?"

Without looking up, Brooke began to unbutton his shirt. "Convince me not to go. Or let me convince you to come."

Ian stayed Brooke's hands, holding both in one of his own and tilting her chin up with the other. Without breaking their gaze, Ian removed his glasses and placed them on the counter. He then leaned down and kissed Brooke's forehead. She closed her eyes and let out a gentle sigh as his lips traced down to her lips. He kissed her gently, and then suddenly with great fervor. His arms wrapped around her tightly and pulled her closely. She moaned and gripped his shoulders tightly.

He lifted her up and placed her on the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust against him. His hand slid to her waist and he held her tightly in place. "Don't go," he murmured in her ear, nibbling at it gently.

"Come with me," she replied, running her fingers through his hair and pulling at the buttons of his shirt,

"Don't go." He kissed her neck. "Don't go, don't go, don't go…." He kissed her neck in between each plea, working his way back to her lips.

"Come with me," she whispered before their lips met. "Or convince me not to go."

Brooke's hands successfully unbuttoned his shirt and he worked it off his shoulders. Ian stopped what he was doing. He took a step back from Brooke and turned to her slightly, as to best show off his scars. "This," he said, motioning to the pale, smooth scar tissue that jutted out angrily away from the tanned skin of his torso. "This should be enough to—to convince you not to go."

"Ian, I…" Brooke closed her eyes and put her head in her hands, shaking her head slightly. What had she done? What had she agreed to do? She worked with dangerous animals on a daily basis, but none could ever be compared to what she was going to be facing on Isla Sorna. What could befall her was staring her right in the face.

"Okay," she muttered, and Ian's eyebrows raised hopefully. She removed her head from her hands. One more lie, that was all she had to tell. And she wouldn't really lie, she would just 'evade the truth'. "Okay. Let's forget about it. Let's go out tonight, please. Or stay in bed until tomorrow. I just want to be with you, okay?"

Ian's lopsided smirk returned to his lips. It broke into a smile as he approached her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. Brooke closed her eyes and relished it. She would relish every moment until the moment she walked out her front door. Because after that, she didn't know if she would ever get the chance again.

x-x-x

**4:20A.M**

Brooke was curled up tightly in Ian's arms, fighting sleep for about an hour. They had spent the rest of the afternoon together, and then all evening in Brooke's bedroom. She didn't want to leave. Her heart pounded against her chest and her breath became shortened. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to focus.

Very carefully, she removed herself from Ian's arms. He began to stir immediately, so she leaned over and kissed his forehead. He groaned and reached for her upper arm. "Hey," she whispered gently in his ear.

"Whathappening?" he slurred.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom," she told him in the lightest of murmurs. "I'll be right back."

"Okay." Ian rolled over slightly, eyes still closed. He began to snore gently within seconds, but Brooke knew it would only be a short amount of time before he realized she had not returned. She kissed him softly on the lips.

"I love you so much," she whispered, her first confession to him. "I'm so sorry." She kissed him again, and then got out of bed.

In the bathroom under the sink she had stored her clothes for the day. She dressed quickly, brushed her teeth and tossed her hair up in a messy bun. She then pulled a pre-written note from under a box of tampons (presumably where Ian would never find it), and brought it with her to the kitchen. She kissed it before laying it down on the counter. It would explain everything to Ian when he awoke to find her gone.

Getting out the front door was the hardest part—physically and mentally. Brooke stalled, considered backing out, and longing to be back in bed with Ian. But when headlights flooded the street outside, she knew she had to go. She opened the door quickly and closed it slowly behind her. Every creak made her wince, and the click of the lock made her jump.

Once she was out the front door she first ran to her trunk of her Jeep and pulled out her backpack and duffel bag, which were packed tightly with all of her necessities. She hid them in the trunk so Ian would not find them prematurely and know something was up. She took one last look at her house and then climbed into the front seat of the black car that had been idling by the curb.

Even Richard Levine looked a bit nervous as she closed the door behind her. He pulled away immediately. "The plans have changed a bit," he said, not looking at her.

"What do you mean?"

"The vehicles will not be ready for transport until late this evening," he said. "However, we are still moving on with the plan to leave now. You, myself, and our guide Diego will be arriving on Isla Sorna with temporary camp equipment at 3 PM. The vehicles will leave for transport at 6PM from San Diego, and arrive on the island at 6AM the following morning with our photographer, paleontologist, and hopefully a zoologist suitable to study carnivores."

"We'll be safe until then?" Brooke asked warily.

"As safe as we can be."

Brooke's chest tightened and she fought away all the terrifying thoughts that crept into her mind. She turned around to look behind them as the car drove on. Her eyes welled with the tears tears of a sudden onslaught of fear as her house disappeared into the darkness.


	17. It Begins

**Chapter 17**

* * *

_Dear Ian,_

_I trust that by the time you read this letter, you will have already discovered that I am no longer in the house. In fact, by the time you read this I am most likely 30,000 feet up in the air and well on my way with my journey to Isla Sorna. I am sorry I deceived you, but I knew you would never let me go otherwise. I need this job, Ian-it will ensure my future with wildlife and my contribution to worldwide conservation. I did not mean to hurt you. This is not about you, or about us. It's about me. I am sorry I am so selfish._

_Trust in me, I will return in 3 days time. I will come back, and I hope I will have you to come home to. Wait for me. If you will not, please drop Felicity off at my parents. Tell them nothing or that I'm in Africa or something. God, Ian, I am so sorry. I am so so __so sorry__. I love you Ian, I really do and I'm sorry I waited until this moment to tell you. Please, wait for me. I will see you soon._

_With Sincerest Love,_

_Brooke_

__x-x-x

Brooke hauled herself up onto the soft grass. Her legs scraped up against the harsh rocks of the cliff face, but did not cut deep enough to bleed. She gasped and breathed heavily as she turned over on her back, looking up at clear blue sky. "_Fuck_," she cursed. "Que tan alto es Diego?" Richard, just beside her, asked "What the fuck" did she say to him. She had asked (in very poor Spanish) how high the cliff they had just scaled was.

"500 feet," Diego replied in English, giving Richard a wary glance.

"Fuck," Brooke repeated.

After a few minutes of rest, Diego declared they should move to the cover of the jungle. Brooke was beginning to understand that their guide did not fully grasp his purpose on this island. He was so eager to enter into the jungle, and seemed completely unaware of the danger it posed.

"Solo hay pajaros aqui," he said airily as they made their way down the hillside. Brooke shook her head as he translated in English: "There are only birds here." She and Richard exchanged worried glances. Both of them being well-traveled zoologists, they were familiar with the calls of tropical birds, and the chirping they heard around them was nothing they could identify off-hand. It didn't even really sound bird-like. There was a harshness to it that just didn't match the regularities of other tropical species. They stood closely side-by-side, ever watchful of their surroundings.

The hillside dipped into a river valley. The river was not very wide and did not appear deep, but it had an obviously quick current. The open area between the bank and the forest seemed to give Richard and Diego a very false sense of security, but Brooke would not be so easily reassured. She closed her eyes briefly and listened to the world around her. The chirps grew louder, but there was also another tone, one Brooke had never heard before. And then there were several copies of that same vocalization, each coming from different directions. It was so faint, Brooke could just hear it over the rush of the river and the chirping. Her heart stopped. Whatever those low vocalizations were, the animals responsible were _communicating_. As she had devoted the last three years of her life to the study of herbivores—large _prey_ animals—she knew exactly what was going on.

She, Diego, and Richard were being hunted.

A rustle in the bushes made Brooke open her eyes wide. Her heart rate gradually began to quicken. "Richard we have a problem," she said quietly, her tone wavering.

"What would that be?"

"There are several animals in our vicinity and at least three of them are hunting us."

"What, how do you know?"

"I can hear them."

An animal broke the tree line, and after all three of them startled in surprise, Richard and Diego began to laugh. A small lizard-looking creature, about the size of your average house cat, emerged, watching them carefully. "Oh, would you look at that," Richard said smugly. "Our vicious predator. A Compy."

"A what?" Brooke asked, studying the creature's quick, abrupt movements.

"_Compsognathus_," Richard replied. "Scavengers. They only go after the dead or dying."

"And you know that from fossil records?" Brooke asked skeptically. She kept her head moving, swiveling around to soak in as much of her surroundings as she could possibly gain.

Richard laughed harshly, and he and Diego began to follow the basilisk-like lizard. Brooke took careful steps behind them, edging closer and closer to the river. Once again, she heard the growling, low vocalization. But this time, she didn't have to close her eyes and try. She looked turned her attention just north of their small party. There was movement, a dark shadow. It was gone in a flash, but she swore she could make out the silhouette.

She lost her breath for a moment. Another slight rustle, just barely audible, this time just to their right. "Richard," Brooke said, her voice just above a whisper.

He ignored her, his eyes fixated on the 'Compy' in front of him. Brooke's heart was practically throwing itself against the inside of her ribcage. Tears welled up in her eyes. Terror was overtaking her entire body. Her hands began to shake violently and she was finding it hard to catch her breath. She could hear the rustling in the bushes just beyond the riverbank. To her left, she saw a flash of movement.

"_Richard we are being hunted,_" she hissed. He put a hand a hand up to silence her. The guide looked back nervously, as if the translation had just gone through in his mind and the depth had settled. He turned back to Richard and attempted to get his attention.

"Senor," he said. "Senor I think-" Brooke stopped listening to Diego's pleas.

She knew what was going to happen next. Not only had she seen her fair share of horror films, she was very familiar with the hunting styles the animals—she guessed Raptors—employed. If she screamed or went to extreme measures to alert Richard, she would be signing her own death sentence by igniting a frenzy. No, she had to stay calm. She had to force herself to think quickly. She had a life back in the United States. She had her family, her students, her dog. She had Ian—whom she liked to refer (at least in her own mind) to as 'the love of her life thus-far'—and Kelly. She couldn't abandon her loved ones. She was going to make it back home. So she had a choice.

It was either her or Richard and Diego.

Brooke made her decision. Richard chattered on mindlessly as he attempted to approach the little dinosaur. Diego desperately tried to get his attention as Brooke had. It seemed that he had figured out the danger lurking in the shadows of the forest. Brooke backed up into the river as quietly as she could, forcing her mind to focus in on her surroundings. Almost instantly she felt the pull of the current as she waded up to her knees, and then her waist. She had to fight to stay grounded. The rustling in the bushes had stopped, but she could swear that if she listened hard enough, she could hear the raspy breath of a large beast just beyond the tall oak to her right.

It all happened very fast. Brooke submerged herself in the cold water just as Richard turned around. Diego screamed as a raptor leaped from the tree line. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly, submerging herself underwater. Even there she could still hear the strangled screams of Diego as the current swept her away.

As her body was pulled along by the current, Brooke exhaled very slowly, allowing her body to neutralize under water. After about a minute, when she was sure her lungs would burst, she tilted her body up toward the surface and rose slowly. She was still in a great amount of danger. Almost every known species of reptile was capable of swimming, and Brooke was sure that dinosaurs were no exception. She didn't know what sort of aquatic life ravaged the island, or how the animals had adapted in their time on Isla Sorna. When she surfaced she rolled her body like a log and remained as still and stiff as a board. She took small, shallow breaths, trying to restrict her body from even the slightest movement.

She did not know where the river would take her, so she tried to use her eyes to subtly take in her surroundings. She looked for any herbivorous creatures at the water's edge. With predatory activity upstream, the animals were likely to feel safe exposing themselves for a drink. If she could move with them, she would have a better chance at survival. There really was safety in numbers, and if the Triceratops, Stegosaurs, and Brachiosaurs were as docile and dopey as they seemed from afar, she had a good chance of being able to use their numbers to protect her safety, if only for a little while.

Brooke counted the seconds carefully to monitor her travel. After 315 seconds, the river turned softly around a bend and opened up into a large lagoon. Around the lagoon, the very species Brooke so longed for congregated. It was one of the most stunning sights she had ever witnessed. The animals were purely magnificent. It was as if she had floated softly from a nightmare and into a dream. The imaginations of brilliant minds from around the globe manifested at the waters edge. Not only adults, but there were also infants and juveniles romping and playing and cuddling close to their parents. They were in large herds and small family groups. Even in her predicament, Brooke could only feel an overwhelming sense of awe.

The animals seemed unaffected by Brooke's presence. She assumed they thought of her only as an unsuspicious, oddly shaped log that had rolled into their watering hole. But now that she was in somewhat open water, Brooke knew her exit had to be swift. She kept her movements small, her arms almost perpendicular to her floating torso so their gesticulations were not so noticeable. She moved slowly to the part of the bank at least 100 feet from the nearest animal.

When her hands hit bottom, Brooke grabbed a handful of mud and scooped it on top of her head. She grimaced as the slimy substrate slid down her cheeks, framing her face. As she edged closer and closer to shore, she continued to cover her face, neck, and shoulders. The more parts of her body became uncovered by water, the more parts she covered in mud. When she reached the shoreline, she removed her backpack and rolled in the mud. She took huge handfuls of clay in her hands and rubbed it all over her body like lotion. When she felt she was sufficiently covered, she took her backpack and dumped its contents. Its waterproof seal had done its job: her notebooks, the walkie-talkie, and her large hunting knife had remained in pristine condition. She was grateful she had the forethought to take a water bottle.

Brooke moved her supplies to the dry sand and then crept back to the rivers edge. She opened her pack and—with a slight shake of her head—began to fill the sack with mud. _Hopefully the waterproof seal that kept water out so well will keep the water in and the mud moist, _she thought to herself.

By spreading mud all over her body, Brooke hoped to eliminate most of her scent. With her smell masked, she could move through the forest with a little more security. The mud would mask her trail, and the brown coloring would provide her with the slightest amount of camouflage. Pigs roll in mud to protect their bodies from the harsh sun, so Brooke hoped that her mud bath would also keep her cool and prevent her from getting a nasty sunburn. She hoped it would not only preserve her skin, but also her life.

When the pack and all its pockets were filled with mud, Brooke applied another coat to her entire body and then sat at the rivers edge to survey the land. Across the lagoon, Brooke saw a clearing where a giant herd of Brachiosaurs (she counted at least 27 members) were grazing. Surrounding the clearing was a "fence" of towering trees that were able to protect the monumental animals that fed around them. These trees dotted a slight slope that led to some sort of plateau.

"A high point," Brooke murmured to herself. "I need to get to a high point."

With her sights set on a new hiding spot, Brooke applied one last coat of mud and donned her backpack. She groaned slightly, the pack now weighed about 25 pounds. Brooke took her knife and wedged it in between her belt and her khakis. She took the walkie-talkie in hand, but abandoned her notebooks. Before she left, she arranged the three books into the best impression of an arrow she could make, and set it so it was pointing in the direction she would be heading, for when people came looking.

Brooke gulped. _If_ people came looking.

She moved slowly around the lagoon, staying close to the shadows of the trees. Every part of her body was tense, every sense going into overdrive as she tried to focus on her surroundings. Luckily, her plan seemed to be working. The large herbivores paid her no mind as she walked within feet of the mighty beasts. A few looked in her direction, watched her for a few moments, and then upon seeing she had no intention of attempting an attack, resumed feeding on the aquatic plants of the shallow water.

It took her about a half an hour to make it to the clearing. The grass was surprisingly short, and Brooke surmised that it was a regular spot for the Brachiosaurs. She was able to move through the grass with ease, but felt horribly exposed. The giant herbivores did not give her a spare glance. It was as if she were simply an ant moving along the sidewalk being looked down upon by New York City sky scrapers. By the time she reached the tree line she was thankful for the shelter.

Climbing a wide-trunked tree with a 25 pound weight attached to her back was no easy task. Being covered in mud did not help either, as she would frequently slip or lose her grip because of the now caked-on dirt becoming moist from the sweat she exerted.

Huffing and puffing and nearly an hour later, Brooke reached a height which she estimated was about 30 feet in the air, and there was still much room for her to climb. But she had found a nook in which she could place her backpack and rest. She was exhausted. She took a few swigs from her water bottle and then tucked it beside her backpack. She was going to have to figure out a way to ration it. She had no way of knowing when or if someone was going to come rescue her, and she didn't know how her body would react to any microorganisms that lived in the river's fresh water.

Brooke settled against the trunk of the tree, her legs straddling either side of the huge branch she sat on. She looked around her and frowned. Ian had said that raptors had the ability to jump very high. Was she high enough? Instead of moving farther up the tree, Brooke drew her hunting knife from its sheathe and began sawing away at close branches. She was able to remove a few small branches completely (the resulting _BOOM_ as they fell to the forest floor startled the Brachiosaurs quite a bit), and others she cut just far enough down the center so they were so weak that if enough weight was applied they would snap. It took her a while, and by the time she felt safe enough, her arm was on its way to being numb. Brooke sheathed her knife and curled up into the crook in the tree.

A little voice inside her head told her she should be monitoring the herbivorous dinosaurs and taking notice of what they ate and how they ate it. She simply shooed that voice away. Another little voice told her to check her walkie-talkie and try to find Richard. She turned the device on, but got static on all five channels. She called out on each one. Nothing. And finally, a third little voice made sure she felt guilty for the death of at least one person. Diego was most certainly gone, there was no doubt about that. But had Richard gotten away? For the sake of her sanity, Brooke hoped so. She was already responsible for the death of one person. If she was responsible for multiple deaths, she didn't think she could live with herself.

With those absolutely positive thoughts swirling around her mind, Brooke's eyelids got heavy and began to droop. Within minutes, she was asleep, and for the first time in hours (and what would be the last for a very long while), she was at peace.


	18. Ian

**Chapter 18**

* * *

Ian clutched to Brooke's letter tightly, wrinkling it severely and nearly tearing it in his grasp. His hands shook, and he was having trouble focusing. Whether he was more angry or terrified, he couldn't exactly tell. His chest tightened, his stomach felt as if someone had dropped a bag of rocks in it. He set the letter down on the counter top and gripped the edges of the cool granite with all his might. Spots began appearing in his eyes, and he had to blink rapidly to clear his vision. Felicity barked in the background, but his thoughts were going a million miles a minute, searching through the deep recesses of his mind for a number he had long forgotten.

Ignoring the incessant barks of the obviously stressed Golden Retriever, Ian searched the house for a phone book. When he found a stack of old, dusty manuals pushed back on the top of the refrigerator, he snatched the oldest edition and flipped through the pages. As he expected, InGen's advertisement had taken up an entire fold. His eyes scanned for an administrative number, but the closest he got was a number for those interested in employment. He grabbed the phone from the receiver, resolving that it was as good as he was going to get.

A young woman picked up on the other side of the line, a little too perky for 6AM. "Hello!" she said brightly. "You seem to have dialed an out-of-use number. This is Rebecca Wheeler of International Genetic Technologies Incorporated, can I redirect you to another line?"

"John Hammond," Ian replied, drumming his fingers impatiently on the counter top. Felicity barked at him again, and after glaring at her for a moment he realized the dog was dancing in place.

"I'm sorry?" the woman sounded taken aback. Ian rolled his eyes as he opened the back door and let Felicity out to do her 'business'.

"I would like to be connected to John Hammond's direct line, please. I'm, uh, an old friend."

"An old friend who uses an outdated number?" the woman sounded skeptical.

"Do you have a, uh, manager or someone—someone who's been with the company for, at-at least three years?" Ian was pacing around the kitchen, getting tangled up in the chord and calling the woman on the other line several nasty things in his mind.

"Yes but sir—"

"Tell whoever they are that Ian Malcolm wants to get in touch with Mr. Hammond imm—immediately."

"Oh, all right Mr. Malcolm I'll ask my supervisor," the woman made it obvious she was humoring him. Her words were laced with snark.

"It's, uh, Dr. Malcom—tell them Dr. Malcolm—"

"All right."

The secretary did not put him on hold. From his side of things, Ian surmised she only turned the phone into her shoulder or placed it on her desk. He heard the muffled sounds of conversation, and the mention of his name. There was a sound of a bit of a scuffle and the phone was quickly picked up.

"Dr. Malcolm?" This time an older-sounding woman picked up the phone.

"Yes?" Ian was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"I'm so sorry for Miss. Wheeler's mistake. My name is Wendy Hart, I was the woman who originally set up your appointment with Mr. Hammond's lawyers."

"That's, ahh, that's great, Ms. Hart, however I really need to get in touch with Mr. Hammond to speak with him about his…his latest _venture_."

"Right away, Dr. Malcolm. Sorry again about the mix-up."

Without another word, there was a click on the other side of the line and a dial tone ensued. It rang about fifteen times, and just before Ian was sure he was going to be sent to an answering machine, the other line cleared.

"This better be good," said an irritated English accent on the other side.

"John, ah, I had so hoped I would never have to hear your voice again."

"Is this…" a pause. "Ahh Dr. Malcolm! I was _so_ hoping to be hearing from you. No doubt you'd like to join our little scouting party, eh?"

"No, uh, I—I want you to bring Brooke DiAngelo back to the States immediately!"

"Miss. DiAngelo?" Another pause, and then suddenly (and with much delight), Mr. Hammond realized: "Oh that's right! Richard said you and her had become quite the power couple as of late, yes! I'm surprised you let her leave without you."

"Yeah, John, me too," Ian muttered bitterly. "I want her—I want her back in the States right. I know you have connections John, turn that damned airplane around."

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Malcolm but you see that's impossible," the old man replied. "You see, things have already been set into motion, things that even _I _cannot change. Besides, Miss. DiAngelo is quite capable of making her own decisions, and she's _obviously_ made hers."

"She has no idea what she's getting into!" Ian exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the countertop.

"Oh, dear man you underestimate her!" Mr. Hammond replied. Ian could practically hear the imp-ish smile on his face. "She has spent _years_ in Africa—living right in the middle of the savannah. She's dealt with the worst predators on the planet to study her precious elephants. A few _days _on my island will be a cake walk for her."

"I'm quite aware of her—her accomplishments and uh, capabilities, John, but she is walking in blind. She has—has no idea…the lions and cheetahs and leopards of Africa are nothing compared the prehistoric predators that she'll face."

"I assure you we've taken every precaution, spared—"

"Spared no expense?" Ian whispered harshly. "Now where—where have I heard that before?"

"Yes, well this time we're prepared," Mr. Hammond defended. "By this time tomorrow morning, they will have the best protection that money can buy—"

"This time—time _tomorrow?!"_ Ian exclaimed. "You sent them to that God forsaken island without protection?"

"Why, yes," Mr. Hammond replied. "There was a bit of a hiccup with one last piece of the GPS phone. We're sending out the equipment and the last members of our team tonight at 6PM. In fact, if you hurry, you could get a flight to San Diego and join them. I'm sure Miss. DiAngelo would be most pleased to see you. Until then, Richard Levine and his guide should be all the protection she needs."

"What's the name of the equipment team?"

"The head-of would be a man named Jack Thorne. Prefers to be called Doc, though…strange fellow. He runs a business called Mobile Field Systems which creates specialized field equipment for scientists all over the world. He's the best of the best. Spared no expense."

"You said, uh, 6 o' clock?"

"Yes," Mr. Hammond sounded a little irritated. "The team will be leaving from the airport in San Diego and then will meet the equipment in Costa Rica, where they'll be taking a barge out to Isla Sorna. They'll be arrive at 6AM sharp, where Richard and Miss. DiAngelo and their guide will be waiting for them." He paused. "Can I count you in?"

"You can count on a lawsuit for—for reckless endangerment," Ian spat.

"Glad to have you aboard once again, Dr. Malcolm."

Just before Ian could fire out a slew of profanities toward the old man, John Hammond hung up the phone. Ian swore loudly and slammed the phone on the receiver. Without bothering to pull on more than his black jeans, black undershirt, and shoes, he brought Felicity in from the backyard, clipped on her leash and grabbed his keys to his car and the spares to Brooke's house. How he was going to explain this to Brooke's parents, he didn't know. He was going to have to wing it. As for Kelly and his ex-wife…he shuddered at the thought, twisting his keys in the ignition and bringing his car to life.

As it turned out, Brooke's parents weren't too surprised when Ian traded in a lie for the truth, though they were distraught to hear the news. Ann was obviously worried, and Jim swore in a way Ian never thought possible for the usually very good-natured (in his mind Ian compared him to a Santa Claus-type character) man. Ann tried to make Ian promise he would bring their daughter back _alive_, and Ian's chest felt like it would split in two when he told them all he could do was try.

"Do whatever needs to be done to bring her home, Ian," Jim told him as he walked the younger man out to his car. "Drag her home kicking and screaming. Tranq her if you have to. Kill all the dinosaurs you see. Even if she hates you and all of us by the end of it, I don't care. Just bring our daughter home." The two men shook and Ian departed with new weight added to his shoulders. He didn't regret telling Brooke's parents the truth, but it certainly didn't make his task any easier.

When he arrived at Susan's house to collect some clothing, he found his ex-wife an her new husband, Maurice, bustling about the house packing suitcases. Kelly was sat in front of the television where a loud, colorful children's show was playing. When Ian walked over and kissed her forehead, Kelly flung her arms (one still in a cast) around his neck and held on as he straightened.

"Wh—what's going on?" he asked, looking over the suitcases lined by the door.

"Maurice is taking me to Vegas for the weekend!" Susan exclaimed excitedly. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Vegas…Vegas isn't exactly child-friendly," Ian replied with a hard look at his ex's husband, who stood with a smug smirk in the corner.

"Well we were hoping you would take Kelly for the weekend," the little weasel replied, sliding his hands into his pockets of the slacks that probably cost more than Ian's car's down payment. "You understand, don't you old sport?" Ian wanted to gag. Maurice Wellington III talked as if he had just stepped out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel.

"I—I can't take Kelly, I'm going to San Diego for the weekend."

"Oh that's wonderful!" Susan replied. "She'll just love the zoo they have there. And maybe you could go to Disneyland…"

"Disney?!" Kelly exclaimed excitedly. Ian put his daughter down and placed his hands on his hips.

"This—this is no vacation," he said firmly. "This—I have serious business to attend to on an island of the prehistoric kind."

Although Maurice Wellington III laughed and muttered "Oh yes, _dinosaurs_," to himself, Susan whipped around, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing tightly.

"You are not going back there, Ian," she snarled at him. "Absolutely not. It ruined your life once, are you going to let that happen again—or worse have it _end _your life?!"

"I'm not staying long, only a few hours at the most," Ian replied. "It's a, ah, _recon mission_, ah, if you will. Brooke decided it would be a fun little project to—"

"The icing on the cake!" Susan exclaimed. "Going to chase after your young piece of tail to make sure _she_ doesn't die—"

Ian turned to Kelly, who's eyes had widened in terror. "This is tall people talk, honey," he said kindly, changing his tone while glaring at his ex. "Go—go and uh, watch your TV show, and I'll talk to you in a bit." The child didn't move. "Go."

Once Kelly had retreated back into the den/play area, Ian turned back to face Susan. "In case—in case you've forgotten, Susan, we're no longer married so uh, you're not going to tell me what to do for—for or with or, uh, to the people I love. You have Mr. Gatsby over here, so, uh, you can stay out of my life and spend some time with your daughter for once in the past few months."

Susan cackled—yes, _cackled_ like an angry witch—and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Oh, Ian, how the tides have turned. You _love_ this girl, really? Enough to go risk your skin, enough to go risk everything you have to save her. Enough to accuse me of not giving my daughter the love and attention she deserves. Where have you been the passed few years, Ian? Where? You have absolutely no right to judge me, my choices, or my husband. You are taking Kelly this weekend, and if you're actually serious about gallivanting off to your death, well then fine. You can leave Kelly with my Auntie Doris. She lives just outside of San Diego."

"You know what, _Susie_?" Ian snapped, using the nickname his ex-wife positively loathed. "Fine. The tides really have turned."

x-x-x

About seven hours later, Ian and Kelly stepped out of the airport in San Diego and walked over to the nearest available cab. At 2 o'clock in the afternoon, it was a miracle they found one with such little difficulty. They slid in, and Ian gave the driver the address of 'Doc' Thorne's body shop.

"After we check out the place," Ian told his daughter. "I'm going to call your Great-Aunt Doris and, uh, we're going to put you in a cab that will—will deliver you right to her front door, okay?"

"Why can't I come with you to see Brooke?" Kelly asked.

"Because—because—well because Brooke and I have some things to talk about," Ian lied to his daughter. "We haven't been able to have any alone time lately, and there are things we—we need to discuss…about the future. It's, uh, it's tall people talk."

"Everything lately seems to be tall people talk," Kelly moped.

When the two arrived at Mobile Field Systems, Kelly was still pouting. Ian picked his daughter up in his arms and brought her into the front of the shop. Behind the counter, a man was staring hard at what seemed to be some sort of satellite phone. He looked up when Ian walked in.

"Uh, Doc?" Ian asked.

"You must be Ian Malcolm," Thorne replied with a nod. "Hammond said you'd be arriving sometime this afternoon." The phone buzzed with static. "I think Levine is trying to get in touch with us. This thing has been going crazy for an hour. Snot-nosed punk didn't pay a lick of attention while I was explaining how to use the equipment."

The phone crackled loudly and Ian took a few steps toward the man. They stood in silence for a few moments, Ian could feel his heart banging against his ribcage. After a minute or so, they heard the strangled voice of Richard Levine play in over the wild static.

Thorne picked up the phone, pressed a button deliberately and said: "Richard? It's Doc. Do you copy?"

There was a hiss of static, a crackle, and then Richard's voice played clear this time. It was deep and raspy. "Hello? Hello?" he coughed. "This is Levine, is anyone there?"

Doc picked up the phone. "Richard, this is Thorne. You have to press 'T' for transmit. Levine?"

"This is Levine. Hello? Levine. Please. I need help." He groaned loudly. Ian clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white and Kelly had to adjust her position in his arms. Levine continued. "If you can hear me, send help. Listen, I'm on the island, I managed to get here all right, but—"

There was another long set of crackling and hissing. Thorne swore and explained to Ian that the battery was dying. "Richard," he said loudly into the phone. "Richard _where are you_?"

They could hear Richard's deep, hoarse, breathing on the other side. The phone hissed again, and Levine's message came in garbled. "—dead already—don't know where—she was there and then—now—gone—very serious—don't know—can hear me, but if you—get help." Ian put Kelly down next to him. Seeming to grasp the severity of the situation, she held tightly to his pant leg.

"Richard, _tell us where you are!_" Thorne demanded.

"—have me surrounded—vicious—can smell them especially—to—injury—can't keep—not long—please—help—"

There was a few especially loud crackling noises, and then a final low hiss. Thorne turned off his phone and placed it back down on the counter. Ian leaned over toward the other man, then glanced at the clock just behind Thorne's head.

"What time was the equipment, uh, supposed to get flown out?" he asked.

"6: o'clock sharp," Thorne replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was 3:15P.M.

Ian wanted to shout. He wanted to kick something, or punch someone. He wanted to wring John Hammond's neck. But since none of those options would bring Brooke back, he took a few deep breaths and stared down Thorne.

"Can we make it 4?" he asked. "Can we make it a non-stop flight?"

Thorne nodded. "I'll call Hammond," he resolved. "I'll make it happen."

* * *

**Author's Note: Richard's dialogue at the end was nearly completely taken from Michael Crichton's "The Lost World". No Copyright Infringement intended. Please don't sue me.**


	19. Found

**Chapter 19**

* * *

The air at 50 feet was cool and damp. For Brooke this meant two things: she was constantly shivering, and she was constantly wet. It wasn't cool enough to make her worry about the fate of her fingers and toes, but it was constantly uncomfortable. The damp air of the clouds that rested just above the treetops meant she was always a bit wet, but ensured her mud coating stayed mud and kept her scent muffled, and it ensured she had fresh water to collect on the large, stiff leaves of her perch. Sometimes, when she was able to study the herd of Brachiosaurs or when she got lost in thought she would forget where she was and forgot her discomfort and all would be well.

But then something-any small sound or unfamiliar smell carried on a breeze—would bring her back to her senses. Brooke would remember she was not in Africa with her precious elephants, that she was presently being hunted by a pack of the most vicious predators to ever roam the world, and that it was very possible no one was ever going to find her. Fear would wash over her, a wave of terror so formidable it was debilitating. She would be frozen in her place and would shake so violently she had to cling to the tree trunk so as not to disturb the branches and leaves and give her location away. It would all pass as soon as it came, and she would fall into an uncomfortable numbness until she was distracted or once again reminded of her predicament wherein the vicious cycle would begin again.

At least she was safe at that height, and in the darkness of twilight in the cover of the clouds she felt slightly more secure.

Around dusk, the raptors had found her. It was by their erratic movement and constant sensing of the air that Brooke could see they knew _something_ was there, but they didn't know _what_. They circled the tree for nearly half an hour. Brooke thought that when they finally ceased they had given up, but then to her horror the largest _leapt _to the lowest branch of the tree. Though she was confident that her weakened and removed branches would halt the beast, Brooke began to climb higher. Sensing her movement, the raptor quickened its pace.

Brooke reached what she guessed was about 50 feet up when the first branch—more than 30 feet below—snapped. The raptor grabbed onto another weakened branch with its mouth, and fell to the ground with a loud _**thump!**_ Brooke watched warily as the raptor stumbled to its feet and let out a loud, strangled screech. It attacked the tree once, and then tilted its head to the side. This behavior was often seen in parrots. Brooke heart stopped: it was looking for her. Though they left soon after, Brooke knew they would return. So she resolved to stay at 50 feet.

10 agonizingly long and terrifying hours later, Brooke's stomach was turned in knots. Though she was hungry, she was thankful for the fresh water supply, as she had no intention of descending any time soon. As the sun began to peak over the tops of the trees, Brooke applied another coat of mud to her skin. The clouds parted just slightly and when the rays of sunlight brushed her skin she couldn't help but smile; it was the first bit of warmth she had felt since the previous morning. With this newfound warmth, the drowsiness of a sleepless night hit her like she had run face-first into a wall. Her eyes began to droop and she leaned back in her groove against the trunk and closed her eyes.

If she could fall asleep for a little—just a few minutes or so—she would be better. If she could rest her mind from horrific thoughts and hunger pangs, she could face her problem and figure out a way to solve it. Just a few minutes of slumber…

x-x-x

"Oh my God!"

Before Brooke opened her eyes, she smiled in relief. Someone had found her.

And then there was another voice, much fainter. "What's wrong?"

"You should see these branches—my _God_ can these animals _climb_?"

Brooke opened her eyes and looked down. Only eight or so feet below her was Richard Levine. He stood uneasily on the branches, a large piece of metal in his right hand. She blinked a few times, and even pinched herself. The relief that had relaxed her gave way to a tightened feeling in her stomach. She balled her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white, and she wanted to call out to him (actually, she wanted to push him out of the tree) but he paid her no mind.

He couldn't see her.

"I'm going to check it out!" Another voice—a vaguely familiar woman's—called down from below. A few seconds passed before it continued. "These weren't made by any animal! These marks are deliberate and precise! These were made with a knife!" A bit of silence followed by a small _thud_ that Brooke figured indicated the owner of the second voice had jumped to the ground.

"Does that mean—mean she could be here?"

Ian.

Without thinking, Brooke began to descend. She slung her near-empty backpack over her shoulder and moved carefully to the other side of the trunk, where she would be hidden from Richard. She was beginning to see red as pure fury bubbled up inside her. If she found herself on the same perch as Richard…she didn't know if Richard would survive the experience. So she crept quietly, not making a sound. Around her, the conversation continued.

"I don't know!" Richard shouted. "She just—just disappeared. I don't know."

Brooke wanted to shout at him. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throttle him. But she kept silent, kept breathing, and kept moving.

"Can we—can we set the high-hide there? Maybe—maybe she'll come back…come back to it."

"No…the branches are not strong enough to support the hide!" Richard called down. A silence followed.

It was far easier to climb down the tree than it was to climb up. The hours it took for her to ascend took her minutes to descend. As she got closer to the ground, the muffled voices became louder, more clear. Though she couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, she could hear the tonation She heard Ian's cadence, the up-and-down tone, the stutter, and her heart nearly fell out of her chest. She forced herself to move faster.

About 10 feet off the ground, she heard the woman say: "Shut up!" and a hush fell over the group. Brooke stopped in her place, listening hard to what the other woman had heard. Footsteps made their way toward her position and Brooke realized that this other woman had heard _her_. So to minimize her chances of being fired at or mistaken for a predator, she released her hold on her branch and hugged the trunk as best she could with her arms and legs. She slid down, hit the ground hard and rolled backward.

"What the-?!"

Slightly stunned, she sat up straight. The world spun around her, and she had to blink and rub her eyes to bring everything back into focus. Standing a few feet away from her, Ian was frozen in his place. Brooke's heart rose in her chest and tears welled instantly in her eyes. Wordlessly, she mouthed: "Ian." She cleared her throat and croaked: "I'm so sorry."

Within a second he was knelt in front of her. His eyes searched hers, and then traced up and down her body. "What is—" he said, running his fingers over her mud-caked skin.

"I'll be God-damned, DiAngelo." The female voice belonged to the one and only Sarah Harding, who stepped out from behind the tree. Brooke barely glanced at her for a second before looking back to Ian. She blinked, and tears began to fall freely down her cheeks. "You covered your scent with mud and set the traps in the trees. If there was anyone to get lost with on this island, it'd be you. God damnit…"

Brooke bowed her head and her shoulders heaved as she stifled a sob. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice a harsh whisper.

"Brooke! By God, you're alive!"

Brooke lifted her head slowly, looking past Ian just in time to see Richard hop down from the tree and walk with pure _leisure_ over to them. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the lack of food, the stress of pure terror, but when she saw Richard, Brooke snapped. She was on her feet so fast, Ian stumbled backward in an attempt to keep up with her.

"_You!"_ Brooke said harshly, tears still streaming down her face. She pointed her index finger out at him as she encroached quickly on him. "This is all your fault!" She lunged at him, but Ian grabbed her around the waist and held onto her as she struggled against his hold. Richard took a few cautious steps back. A nervous grin appeared on his face and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"What—what are you talking about, Brooke?" he asked. "How could you possibly blame this on me?"

"It's your fault!" Brooke exclaimed again, pushing with all her might against Ian's arms around her midsection. "You should have listened to me! I knew we were being hunted. We _all_ could have escaped. It's your fault Diego is dead! It's your fault we're on this God-forsaken island without proper equipment! It's all your fault you arrogant son-of-a-bitch!" She wriggled against Ian. "Let me get my hands around your scrawny little neck—"

"Brooke!" Ian said firmly, lifting Brooke off the ground and turning her away from Richard. "What will that do?" His voice dropped as Brooke kicked out her legs. "Throttling Richard—no matter how, how badly we all want to—will not, it won't change anything. Diego is dead and we—we are stuck on this island for now. Killing Richard won't change that."

The debilitating fear Brooke had experienced in the treetop began to overtake her again as Ian's words sunk in. There was nothing anyone could do. They were stuck—at least for now—and that was that. There was an alarmingly high chance that she would never get off this island. Her friends, her family...she would never see them again. Suicide. Taking this job had been an act of suicide. With this stunning realization, she stopped struggling slowly as she became literally paralyzed with fear. Her hands and knees began to shake uncontrollably. The combined fear, hunger, and overexertion from climbing the tree and trying to attack Richard turned her limbs to Jell-O and she began to shake violently. Her breaths became short and she tried her hardest not to sob.

"Oh God!" she cried.

Ian spun her around in his arms and held her to him tightly. He kissed her forehead gently as he tried to cover as much area of her body with his arms. Brooke gripped onto the fabric of his shirt and buried her head in his chest. She felt like a child, but she didn't care because she couldn't help it. The terror that overtook her surpassed any feelings of embarrassment by her behavior.

"Let's get her back to the trailer before she attracts every predator within a three mile radius," Sarah suggested, her tone unsympathetic.

"Trailer?" Brooke whimpered, looking up at Ian.

"Yes," he told her. "With a shower and food and a warm bed. It's safe—for now." He paused and looked from Sarah to Richard, then back to Brooke. His voice dropped to the gentlest murmur. "I'm going to carry you, okay?"

Brooke closed her eyes and nodded against his chest. While still holding her close to his chest with one arm, Ian used the other to scoop her up under her knees. Brooke stull clutched to Ian's clothing, and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry," she told Ian quietly.

"I know, Brooke, I know," he replied, holding her tighter. "I know."

Brooke wasn't expecting forgiveness. She knew that he could probably never forgive her for dragging him out to this island. They shouldn't be here. They should have been back home in Long Island, going out to breakfast or visiting the zoo, or preparing for Brooke's trip to Ohio. They should be anywhere but stranded on an island of death.

The site of the two specialized vehicles brought tears again to Brooke's eyes. She allowed Ian to place her down at the entrance of the "living quarters" trailer while Sarah and Richard went to join Doc Thorne and Eddy Carr at the "lab".

"We'll get you washed up," Ian told her. "Did you bring an extra set of clothes?"

Brooke nodded. "But they're at our original camp," she told him.

"All right, well, well you're certainly not going—not going back there, so you can, uh, borrow one of my shirts I suppose and, uh—"

"I'll hand wash the clothes I'm wearing now," Brooke concluded with a slight nod.

"Okay," Ian said, nodding his head in reflection of Brooke's mannerism. "Okay, well, you should have everything you, uh, well that you'll need in there so—"

Brooke gripped onto his arm tightly and met his gaze. "Ian," she said. "I know you hate me right now. I know that you really, truly, hate me and that's okay I would hate me too. I-I do hate me. You can hate me forever once we're off this island. But _please_, Ian, don't leave me alone, okay?"

Ian's expression softened and he nodded slowly, and then kissed her forehead. "Okay."

Brooke opened the trailer door and raised her eyebrows. There was some trash strewn across the floor—candy bar wrappers and plastic cups. She moved cautiously up the stairs, reaching for Ian's hand behind her. He squeezed her hand gently. When the two made it to the level flooring, Ian murmured: "What the hell?"

A gentle snoring was heard, and Ian maneuvered himself in front of Brooke. They moved to the back of the trailer where the bunks were. Sure enough, a small figure was curled up under the blankets. Ian froze, and Brooke took a sharp intake of breath.

"Kelly!" they both exclaimed in shock.

The small body of the seven year-old stirred, rolled over, and looked up at them with two big, beautiful brown eyes. With a questioning look of complete innocence she looked to her father and asked: "Are we there yet?"


End file.
